


Holding Me Hostage

by sakabelle



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Angst, Drug Use, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-01
Updated: 2015-09-01
Packaged: 2018-04-18 10:31:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4702757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sakabelle/pseuds/sakabelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Niall Horan is content to keep to himself for his thirteen month prison sentence. He's content to stay out of trouble. Content to do his time and get out. But within the walls of HM Forest Bank, everyone's got a secret. Everyone's got a purpose. Everyone's got to get through their time somehow.</p><p>Which is how Niall finds himself with a lot more problems than he ever had on the outside.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Holding Me Hostage

**Author's Note:**

> Mega thanks to Jess as always for helping me bounce ideas off of her and giving me encouragement when I needed it! Muah! x

_Thirty four million, one hundred eighty six thousand, six hundred and sixty nine seconds._

“You're going to hate it here.”

Niall side-eyes the boy standing beside him. The inmate who picked him up at the gate and drove him to this god-forsaken building. Like that isn't the thought that's been running through his mind over and over again since he woke up this morning.

Like it won't be ringing through his mind for the next thirteen months.

And then the boy slaps him on the back with a bit of a laugh. Like this is somehow funny? Like it's all a joke to him. 

“Everyone does,” he says, nodding his head firmly. “But you get used to it eventually. I'm Louis, by the way.”

Niall shakes his hand firmly, still not really looking around. It's so bleak and boring. The walls are plain and the people that he can see are dejected and lifeless.

Except for this idiot standing beside him.

“Niall,” he says, still glancing around.

“Right,” Louis drawls. “Saw that on your info sheet. Let's go down to the bunks, then.”

Niall narrows his gaze and furrows his eyebrows as he follows Louis through the bleak halls. _A criminal, Niall._ A voice in his head chastises him. _You're following a bloody criminal. Who knows what's going to happen once he gets you to where he's taking you?_

“Not from around here, are you?” Louis says, glancing around as they continue to walk.

“Erm.” Niall looks around. How much information should he really be sharing with this person? _Hardened. Criminal._

“Ireland, I take it? How'd you end up at Forest Bank, then? Wouldn't they deport you?” he laughs. 

Worry and anxiety bubbles up from Niall's stomach to his throat, but he forces it down with everything he's got and laughs along with Louis. “Yeh. No. Lived around Manchester with my brother.”

“But you are from Ireland, aren't you?”

“Yeh.” Niall shuffles his feet. “Aren't ya... going to ask me what I did?”

Louis turns around and narrows his gaze at Niall. “No.”

Niall lets out a sigh. Well, that's a relief. Because it's stupid really, and he doesn't belong here and the last thing he wants is to explain the whole bloody story to anyone, ever. Though, he thought that would have been the first thing that anyone would have asked him. A fucking icebreaker if there ever was one – hey, what the hell did you do to get locked away from society?

Though he's not sure he wants the answer.

“You just... don't ask.” Louis shrugs as they turn a corner. “If they want you to know, they'll tell you. Or you'll find out through the grapevine.”

Niall nods. That's literally the exact opposite of what he thought.

“Where're you again?” Louis snatches the papers out of Niall's hands and scans them. “Oh, 38A? Hmmm... that should be just around here... oh, _oh_.”

“What?” Like this can get any worse.

“Your bunk mate.” Louis is actually smirking. And he's got a positively douchey looking one at that. “He's... well... have fun with that.”

His mind races and screams at him. _A place full or hardened criminals._

“Styles. The mopiest, most emo person in this whole place. I mean, I've met people depressed about being locked up, but he... he is something else.” Louis is laughing again. Because evidently, depression brought on by being locked away from everyone you love is hilarious.

“That doesn't sound so bad.”

“Trust me,” Louis says, stopping in his tracks. “He's insufferable. But at least you'll have your privacy and quiet. When he's not sobbing into his pillow. Anyway, it's over there. Come find me when it's supper time, yeah?”

Niall doesn't say anything as Louis walks away. Instead he clutches his things (which consist of a pillow, a couple of books and couple of t-shirts) and stares at his bunkmate.

Louis wasn't kidding about him. His mouth is turned down and his long, wavy brown hair covers his face. His eyes look heavy, with dark circles around them.

But he certainly doesn't look sad. Well, maybe does, but he looks more annoyed than anything. Hardly the way Louis described him.

“Name?” he asks, his voice low and cutting straight through Niall's thoughts.

“Niall,” he croaks out, already getting tired of this. He just wants to go home. 

He rolls his eyes. What was his name again? Styles? “Nobody here goes by their first name.”

“I just spoke with Louis and he seems to.”

Styles rolls his eyes. “Louis thinks he's better than everyone. Name.”

“Horan.”

“Right, well, there you go.”

And with that, Niall sits down on his uncomfortable bed on the opposite side of their bunk. His home for the next thirteen months. With a roommate who's apparently not at all emo and completely rude.

“So, um, where're you from, then?” he asks, trying to force a smile on his face and a conversation out of this boy.

But Styles' icy green eyes just stare back at him, before he rolls over in his own bunk and faces towards the wall.

Niall sighs and looks up at the ceiling.

Thirty four million, one hundred eighty six thousand, one hundred and fifty three seconds.

* * *

It's like primary school all over again, waiting in line for a tray full of questionable food that has to be eaten on questionable tables surrounded by questionable people.

Only now, those questionable people might stab in him the neck with a plastic fork instead of trip him whilst he looks for a seat.

He gulps down another nervous lump in his throat. This is pure torture – which he supposes is sort of the point. But it's still horrible. And the fucking jumpsuit he's been wearing all day is a bit too big and it's itchy and - 

“Oi! Niall!” 

A bit of relief washes over Niall when he looks over to see Louis waving at him. He shrugs to himself – it's not like he has anywhere else to sit. So he makes his way through the crowded cafeteria hall and sits down across from his new-found friend.

If that's really what he is – a bit of worry still lingers in the back of his mind that this could all be some kind of trick.

“Cheeseburger day, we're really living the dream aren't we?” Louis laughs before he takes a bite.

Niall nods looking down at his tray. Yeah – definitely living the dream. What he wouldn't give for a plate of peri peri chicken and spicy chips right about now.

Before Niall can say anything, Louis's tray is flipped from behind him by a couple of boys walking past. 

“What the fuck?” Louis jumps up, quick to shove one of them. Niall recoils in his chair, his heart pounding. This is a little closer to what he expected when he was sentenced. Fucking prison fights and people being pricks for no reason.

“Come at me, bitch,” the boy laughs, with his friend standing and smirking behind him. 

The only thing Niall (and everyone else, really) can do is sit there and watch while Louis throws a punch at him. The other boy blocks it, grabbing Louis by the shoulders and pulling him towards him., decking him right in the face.

It doesn't last long before the guards break it up, pulling Louis and the other boy apart. 

“Fuck you, Malik!” Louis shouts while he's dragged out of the hall by the guard. “Fuck you and your fucking high horse! You'll get yours!”

Niall glances back down at his tray of food, suddenly having lost his appetite. How long is it going to be before someone comes after him?”

“Jesus Christ,” another boy sitting across from Niall says, shaking his head. He's taller than Louis – brown hair and bright eyes. Niall looks up and catches his eye.

“That was fucked up,” Niall says, unable to contain himself.

The boy just laughs. “It's standard for the two of them. Used to be friends on the outside – Malik and Louis that is.”

Niall just sits there and listens, still not overly interested in his food. The remnants of Louis's supper are sitting haphazardly in front of him. 

“I think they were actually partners,” he continues, resting his chin in his hand and raising his eyebrow. “I don't really know the whole story. Did you know them on the outside?”

Niall shakes his head. “Um, no. I just know Louis. Sort of. I just got here today. Yeh.”

“Oh, you're new,” he says, reaching his hand across the table. “That explains the jumpsuit. Well, I'm Payne. His bunkmate.”

Niall tries to contain the look that he's sure is about to creep up on his face. _Payne_?

“I mean like, that's my last name,” he laughs. “That's just what you go by in here. Like Malik... actually, his friend that he's usually with goes by Naughty Boy. What's that about? We're in prison for god sakes, I'd say we're all naughty boys.” He grins, as though this is the most brilliant quip he's ever said.

Niall's only mildly amused by it, but he smiles all the same. Obviously it's better to have friends in here rather than enemies.

“Who's your bunkmate then? You been introduced yet?”

Niall nods. It was the most basic form of introduction, yeah. “Yeah. Styles.”

Liam cringes. He actually cringes and Niall rolls his eyes. As if being trapped in prison isn't bad enough, he has to have the least desirable bunkmate of all. Though it could be worse he supposes – it could be that Malik character.

“What's with him?” Niall asks, even though it's probably futile. But maybe this Payne character knows more about Styles than Louis does.

“I don't know,” he says. Well, it was a longshot anyway. “No one really does. In fact he's usually left alone. This is the first time he's had a bunkmate in a while.”

“Great.”

Payne shrugs. And then he laughs. “I wouldn't worry about him. Keeps to himself anyway. No one really talks to him.”

Niall considers that for a moment. He even takes one of his chips off of his plate and stuffs it into his mouth. “Well, maybe that's the reason he keeps to himself. Maybe if he had a friend-”

Liam raises his eyebrow. 

“What?”

He sighs and shakes his head. “Look, I know you're new and all, but let me give you a bit of advice. Advice that you won't get from Louis. Don't go round trying to change things. People are content here the way things are and Styles... just don't.”

And Niall nods his head. It's probably good advice – he's just got here after all and the last thing he should be doing is trying to shake things up. Especially with his odd bunkmate who has elicited the same reaction out of two separate people he's met.

Still, those green eyes are stuck in the back of his mind.

* * *

Those same green eyes stare up at him with a raised eyebrow and and unimpressed eyebrows half an hour later.

“If I wanted to eat, I would have come to the cafetiera.”

Niall sighs loud enough to make it obvious he's annoyed. If this bunkmate of his is going to be difficult, he's going to be difficult right back. All signs point to him just being a nuisance and not a serial killer, so it's likely he won't get murdered in his sleep. Besides, if that were the case he wouldn't be in minimum security prison, so it's probably okay.

Styles goes back to the book he was reading when Niall came in. Rolling his eyes and shaking his head as Niall walks over to the cabinet at the foot of his bed and places the rogue apple on it.

“Well, it's there if you get hungry later.” Niall shrugs, flopping down on his own bed. He picks up one of his books and starts to flip through the pages, only skimming a couple of words before becoming bored.

He looks up at Styles again.

His thick brown hair is flopped over the sides of his face, long and wavy. The white t-shirt he's wearing clings nicely around the thick muscles of his arms, a few tattoos poking through.

Even if Styles is a bit of a prick, at least he's nice to look at. 

“What'cha reading then?”

Another low sigh from his bunkmate. A couple of seconds go by, but he actually does answer the question. “Great Gatsby.”

“Never read it. Can I borrow it when you're done?”

Another couple of seconds go by, but this time with no reply. Just the crisp and stinging turn of the page. It's Niall's turn to sigh as he stares up at the ceiling. What in the hell did he do to deserve this?

Well, okay, he knows the answer to that all too well. But what in the hell did he do to deserve to have such a twat for a roommate?

He glances over at Styles again. Still reading the book, still with his curly hair framing the sides of his face. 

Nice to look at, sure. But a pain in the arse to be around.

* * *

_“Just get in the car, Niall!” Greg's shouting at him now, like this isn't the worst thing that Niall's ever done in his entire life._

_But it's dark and it's late and he doesn't know why he went along with his stupid brother in the first place. Because he wanted to be cool or be accepted or whatever? Rubbish. His brother hasn't accepted him since the day he was born, and getting in the car (the stolen, hot-wired car, no less) isn't going to change that now._

_Still, there's nothing else for Niall to do but follow Greg. Just as he's done all his life. And just as he'll continue to do because hell – there's that whole younger brother wanting acceptance from the older bother bullshit. Even if it is a bunch of bullshit and why would he want acceptance from Greg anyway?_

_The car speeds off before Niall even has a chance to buckle up his seat belt. Not like Greg's wearing his anyway. They're barrelling down the highway now. Where they're going – Niall's not really sure. Probably to one of Greg's friends to drop off the car and gut it for parts._

_The police sirens start to catch up with them._

_“Greg,” Niall says cautiously, heat starting to rise up in his stomach and bile starting to rise in his throat._

_“They're not coming for us,” Greg replies. And sure enough he's right – the car goes off past them. Flashing lights dimming as they drive off into the night._

_Niall breathes a sigh of relief – but it's only momentary. It's only a matter of time before they’re the targets. Before their lights are the ones that dim._

He wakes up in a cold sweat, gasping for air and not remembering where he is for a moment. He's expecting to be back in his flat – maybe the dull hum of the telly on in the background with SkyOne on in the background, reporting on a football match that he fell asleep halfway through.

But of course that's not where he is. And the only dull noise is crying from the bunk beside him.

He rolls over onto his side, feeling bad and cautious and worried and concerned all at once. His prick of a bunkmate is just laying there, head in his pillow, oblivious to the fact that Niall has woken up.

“Um,” Niall croaks out, his voice raw with sleep. “Are you alright?”

No response from his depressed bunkie, other than the muffled sobs into his pillow.

“Right,” Niall sighs, rolling over to face the white wall. Not only is he on a stiff mattress, now he has this crap to deal with as well. Sadness starts to pool in his own chest, but at least he's quiet as the tears stream down his face, leaking from one eye to the other.

Louis was right, he does hate it here.

* * *

Breakfasts aren't nearly as great as suppers are, and after three nights in a row of listening to the sobs from the bunk beside him, Niall can barely keep his eyes open.

“So he just cries, then?” Payne asks him, a more concerned than amused look playing in his eyes.

Niall shrugs, chewing on his rubbery scrambled eggs and trying not to gag. “Yeh.”

“Wonder what he's got to cry about.”

Niall shrugs again. Maybe it's the fact that he's such a prick and he's got no friends. Because he's been here only a few days and he's got Liam to sit with at meal time now. And at leisure time to play a couple rounds of cards with.

“Maybe he's malnourished,” he says instead. Even though everyone in this place is probably malnourished, if the shitty food is any indication.

Liam snorts, but he's cut off quickly when a familiar face sits down next to him. Well, maybe this face isn't so familiar. He's got messy, dirty hair and unshaven stubble growing out. His eyes droop with lack of sleep that even Niall can't imagine.

Louis.

“Give me that,” he says, his voice rough as he tugs at Liam's tray. Liam doesn't even stop him, and Niall just gapes at the whole situation.

“Welcome back, mate,” Liam says with a bit of a laugh. It's forced though, Niall can tell because it doesn't reach his eyes.

Louis just grunts, content to shovel what's left of Liam's breakfast into his mouth.

“Solitary,” Liam says to Niall in a low whisper, but Louis still hears it.

“Yes, _solitary,_ ” he drawls out, pointing his plastic fork at Niall before quickly putting it back down on the tray and glancing around, presumably to make sure a guard didn't take notice of that infraction. “And despite what they tell you, the third time's not the charm.”

Niall feels like his eggs might come back up. Which would be almost as unpleasant as forcing them down in the first place. 

“It's not as easy to get in there as he makes it seem,” Liam says with a shrug. “I've never been in there.”

“Of course you haven't,” Louis spits. “You're a fucking angel. You'd never get into a fight – I mean Jesus, for someone whose name is Payne, you've never so much as punched someone. Or fucked anyone.” He points at Niall again – this time with his finger. “Don't fuck anyone.”

This time it's Niall turn to force out a laugh. “It's an all male prison.”

“And you've got beautiful frosted tips, love. Don't fuck anyone. Or if you do, don't let them catch you. I recommend the area behind the podium in the chapel.”

“Jesus Christ, Lou,” Liam says, rolling his eyes.

“Exactly my point. Solitary is bullshit, Horan. Don't want to find yourself alone with your thoughts. Not after you've had them all bottled up in this place. Now, what's been going on? What have I missed?”

“Niall's bunkie's been keeping him awake with his sobs.”

Niall rolls his eyes and gives Liam a look. He'd rather his issues not be made public domain. In fact, if he could lay as low as possible in this place, that'd be swell.

But of course that's not going to be the case. Of course not – not in a place where there nothing else to do but get up in each other's business.

“Oh yeah? Styles? Well, that's not surprising. Tell him to stuff a sock in it. Or stuff your cock in it,” he laughs, glancing over at Liam for approval. Liam just shakes his head.

Niall's hardly amused.

“Just remember,” Louis says with a sly grin and a raised eyebrow. “Do it in the church.”

* * *

Niall returns to his bunk to find a sheet of paper on his bed. Picking it up, he raises his eyebrows. “What's this, then?” he asks, scanning the list of items. 

He doesn't actually expect Styles to reply, so he's a little shocked when his deep voice answers. “Canteen.”

Niall frowns. It's unlikely there's money in his private account. He's been there barely a week – which counts for nothing. He's so tired the days are starting to run together. It's been what... five? Only earning a pound a day for his mere existence within these walls makes it difficult to save up to buy anything. He had about £80 to deposit into his account when he was brought in... but that's going to likely take another couple of weeks to clear.

He sighs, sitting down on his bed, still staring at the paper. He should probably use his £5 to buy a bar of soap (£1.30) and a razor (£2.80), leaving him with hardly anything. But Jesus Christ – there are so many other tempting things on that list. There's phone credit, but the idea of calling his mum and hearing her voice makes his chest feel tight so he quickly skims past that. Socks – could probably use those since he didn't think to bring in extra with him. A radio that's well above what he can afford, but man, listening to some Ed Sheeran would be wonderful right now (or anytime, really.)

And then there's a listing of sweets. He almost starts to salivate at the thought of consuming something not only edible, but delicious.

“What I wouldn't give for a Wispa right about now,” he mutters to himself.

“What?”

“Um,” Niall gulps. He forgot Styles was there. “Just looking at the chocolate.” He forces out a laugh and a smile. “Probably got to spend my money on more sensible things though.”

Styles watches him for a moment and there's tension in the air. Niall can feel his heart pounding in his chest. He's not sure what for – it's not like his bunkie does anything but cry and glare.

He's proven wrong when Styles breaks out a half smile – one that accentuates the dimples that apparently exist on his cheeks and the slight crinkles beside his eyes. “Yeah,” he says, before turning back down towards his own Canteen sheet.

The fear in Niall's chest subsides. He's not even sure why it was there to begin with. 

It melts away even more a week later when he returns to his bunk after breakfast. Sitting on his bed is his bar of soap and razor just like he ordered. He instinctively touches his face – he's never been an overly hairy guy, but two weeks without shaving is starting to make him look fairly patchy. 

He glances over at the foot of his bed – sitting on top of his bunkie's copy of _The Great Gatsby_ is a Wispa chocolate bar. 

Styles isn't actually in the bunk at the moment. A rare occurrence, but Niall figures it's probably not a coincidence. He he glances over at his bed and smiles, clutching the chocolate bar in his hands.

He sits down on his bed and lets the sweet, light taste linger on his tongue. For the first time since he's been here, he actually feels happy.

* * *

Despite his craving for chocolate, Niall has to admit that showering is a lot more enjoyable with soap instead of just scalding hot water. He scratches at his skin, drying to dig dirt out of every pore. He ducks his head under the stream, letting the water douse his hair before he suds it up. Shampoo be damned – the soap works just fine.

He stands there for too long with his eyes closed. The smell of Dove fills his nostrils and for a moment he's back in his mum's house in Ireland. 

Guilt pangs at his chest again when he thinks about her. She's probably more disappointed in him than he can imagine, and if she's not, then she's worried as hell. And whereas a good chunk of the other prisoners get people coming in to see them on visitation days, it's unlikely she's going to come all the way to England to visit him.

He's just going to have to deal with this alone. Which is just as well. If his mum were to show up it would just make all of this too real. Standing there under that shower with only his thoughts to occupy him, he draws in a sharp sigh.

How is it real exactly? He doesn't belong here. Hell, he doesn't even belong in Britain. The only reason he's here is because he followed his stupid brother because of a thirst for adventure that he'd give up in a heartbeat if it meant he'd get to go home.

His real home – not that flat in Manchester that's empty now anyway.

“HORAN!” 

Niall whips his head around. Not that it does any good, no one's standing behind him. The line up for the showers starts at the doorway of the bathroom.

“Get out of the shower! Everyone gets five minutes and you've been in there six.”

He rolls his eyes, recognizing the shrill voice as belonging to Louis. So much for the end of his serene moment away from this hellhole. He shuts off the water and collects his things, wrapping his towel around his waist. At least today marks his two weeks in prison – meaning he can change out of that god awful orange uniform and into a more comfortable t-shirt and sweatpants for the remainder for his time.

“Having a tug?” Louis laughs, slinking past him and into the shower stall.

“Didn't give me enough time,” he snaps back, only half joking. He doesn't think he's actually got the balls to have a wank in the fucking public prison shower. But it has been over two weeks since he's gripped his cock, and he's starting to get a little antsy.

He splashes cold water on his face before lathering it up with his prized bar of soap. That ought to subside those thoughts – because there's no way in hell he's going to let his brain go down that road and start talking to his dick.

Even though it's been _so long._

* * *

Niall makes his way back to his bunk, his hair still damp. He runs his hand through it – he can't stop. Who knew that feeling clean would become such a novelty? Hopefully this is more of a permanent thing and the worst is behind him.

He doesn't let himself get too used to the thought though – it's only been two weeks and by his calculation he's got fifty-four left to go.

Styles is back in his bunk – looking freshly bathed as well. His hair's wet as well, and it hangs in soft, shiny waves just above his shoulders. 

Niall gulps. This isn't helping his lack of wanking problem.

“Hey,” he says, tossing his soap and razor into his cabinet. “Uh...” he scratches his arm, and then the back of his neck and Styles looks up at him. This shouldn't be as awkward as it is. “Thanks for the chocolate,” he finally gets out, as if it wasn't the most blasé thing ever to say.

“You're welcome,” Styles says without a smile or a nod or any semblance of friendship. He just turns his head back to his book.

Niall sighs. And it's back to being that uncomfortable silence where he doesn't know what to do with himself and his bunkie isn't helping anything. Not that he expected to make any friends in prison, in fact he planned to keep to himself as much as possible.

But the fact that it's not his choice is even worse.

“Horan!!”

For the second time today (and in the space of an hour, really) his name is being called by the shrill, thick Doncaster accent he's starting to know all to well. 

Louis bounds through the dorms, stomping his feet and holding a football in his arms. “Come on, a few of us are outside playing a game of footie. You in?”

Niall shrugs, trying his best to look nonchalant. Inside, he's practically jumping for joy. Footie? Hell yes he's in. The worst thing about being in prison (aside from the crippling self-loathing, missing his family and hatred of his self-centred brother, that is) is that he's been missing all the Derby matches on the telly.

“Yeah, sure,” he says, unable to hide the smile that's creeping up the sides of his face. Then he turns to Styles – because maybe a bit of fresh air would do his depressed bunkie some good. “You in, mate?”

Louis snorts. “I didn't ask _him_. Besides he's not likely to leave his cave. Come on.” He tugs at Niall's arm, but Niall pulls away. 

“I know _you_ didn't. That's why I did. Because he's my friend and he deserves to forget about this shithole for a little while just as much as anyone.”

Louis scoffs. “He's not friends with anyone,” he says just at the same time Styles mutters, “We're not friends.”

Niall gapes at him. He goes out on a limb (against Louis, no less) and this is the thanks he gets? The public declaration that they're not friends, making him look like a complete arse?

Louis just gives Niall a smug look and shrugs his shoulders. Then he grabs his arm again. “See? Told you. Let's go play some footie and forget about this shithole.” He sneers, walking towards the exit and looking back at Styles.

Niall just silently fumes, walking alongside Louis. He's too annoyed to look back, knowing that if he did all he'd see is Styles right back on his bed, nose buried in a book and not giving a shit about anyone else.

* * *

“What the fuck was that?” Niall storms back into the bunk after a round of footie. He's out of breath, he's fired up and he's still pissed off from hours ago. Plus his knee is fucking throbbing, so there's that. Probably shouldn't have played so aggressively on account of being angry. Also Styles's fault.

Styles looks up at him with a raised eyebrow that makes Niall fume even more. Like he doesn't know exactly what he's talking about.

“We're not friends. Then tell me, what the fuck was the point in you leaving a fucking chocolate bar on my fucking bed like some kind of fucking peace offering.”

“Say 'fucking' one more time. Maybe it'll make you feel better,” he says calmly, his voice even.

Niall's eyes widen with rage. He glances around their stupid, tiny shared space before picking up his pillow off his bed and violently throwing it to the ground.

Styles looks at him again, his eyes searching Niall's face. Niall's still standing there, breathing heavily and glaring at him.

And then his stupid, irritating, awful, depressed bunkie smirks, and then laughs. “You are not fit for prison,” is all he says.

“Don't you think I know that?” None of this is funny. Niall's fairly certain he won't make it another week without being driven to complete and utter insanity. Which might actually help him cope with this. “That's why I was trying to make a fucking _connection._ ” He waves his arm in between himself and Styles, as if to illustrate his point.

“Feel better now?”

“Fuck you.”

“Look, here's a piece of friendly advice.” Styles turns back to his book. “Don't try to get close to anyone in here. The way to get through is just to be alone with your thoughts, that's the whole point.”

“Right,” Niall says, picking up his pillow, tossing it back on the bed and sitting down on it, facing Styles. He's not giving up that easy, because that's all well and good but there's still one thing that doesn't make sense. “Doesn't explain why I came back to my bunk this morning to find the chocolate I asked for.”

Styles looks back at him and opens his mouth as if to say something, but no words come out. Instead his eyes glaze over, returning to their half closed, distilled state that Niall knows all too well. He sighs, and then turns away from Niall, rolling over to face the wall.

Niall rolls his eyes. He wants to scream out in frustration all over again but he's lost all the energy that requires. Instead he lays down on his bed and stares up at the ceiling.

Maybe Styles has a point. Because so far, trying to get on with him has been more trouble than it's likely worth.

* * *

“It's fucking weird, I'm telling ya.”

Niall's arms are crossed over his chest in the same stubborn position they've been in for the past half hour, as he's been recounting his story to Louis. Which isn't much of a story – but it's been eating at his brain and he needs to get it out to someone. Even if Louis probably isn't the best choice for listening without offering an opinion.

“Hmm.” Or maybe he is.

“What're you doing over there, anyway?” Niall leans into where Louis is sitting on his bunk, concentrating carefully on something.

“Nothing, nevermind,” he says quickly, shoving whatever it is he's been working so intricately on underneath his pillow. “Some sexual tension with the bunkie, then? I told you this would happen.”

“It's not sexual tension.”

“That's what is sounds like to me.”

“He just annoys the shite of me is all.”

Louis raises a cocky eyebrow. “Like I said.”

Niall rolls his eyes. It's _not_ sexual tension. And even if it is, he's not about to admit it out loud. Especially to the person who might be the biggest gossip. In a men's prison. It's just a bad plan all around. “Malik annoys the shit out of you – is _that_ sexual tension?” Niall laughs.

Clearly Louis doesn't find it funny. “Fucking watch it, Horan. Don't go running your mouth about things you know nothing about.” He snatches his project back from underneath his pillow and storms off. “Fucking Malik.”

Niall just watches him, his mouth hanging slightly open. Obviously he's crossed a line – and he mentally chastises himself for not knowing better. In here, nothing is taken lightly.

* * *

_“You are aware that by testifying against your brother, your sentence could be significantly reduced? Grand Theft Auto isn't a petty crime, Mr. Horan.”_

_Niall eyes his brother, sitting across from him. He bites the inside of his cheek, glaring at him and daring Greg to make eye contact with him._

_Of course Greg doesn't. He just keeps staring downwards like he always does. Unable to come to terms with what he's done. Always feeling guilty, but never wanting to take any of the blame._

_“Mr. Horan? Were you, or were you not bribed by the defendant to participate in the theft?”_

_Would it kill his brother to actually look at him? To actually give him the time of day and give a shit about anyone else's well being other than his own?_

_“Yes, your honour,” Niall says, not taking his eyes off of Greg. Because they're one in the same, after all. If Greg's only ever going to look out for himself, then Niall figures he might as well take a page out of his book. Besides, he's not going to be doing himself any favours for lying under oath. “He told me he would give me one thousand pounds if I said I was the only one who was involved in stealing the Renault.”_

Niall wakes up in a haze. He's sweating again, his t-shirt sticking to his chest and lower back, and his nubby blanket twisted around him unnaturally. His eyes flutter open, the world coming back into clear view through his stuck together eyelashes.

It's dark and black and it's the same as it is every other time he's brought back to the mess that got him here. Guilt sits heavy in his chest as he replays the court hearing again and again in his mind, the memory vividly splashed back in front of him by his subconscious.

He tries to choke back a sob, but it forces its way out. Tears well up in his eyes and he shoves his face into the depths of his flat pillow as though not to alert the world to his despair.

“You alright over there?”

Niall rolls over to face his bunkmate. His bunkmate who really isn't helping the situation. He gulps the tears down his throat. “Why?” he asks, his voice raw from a combination of sleep and crying. “Why do you care?”

“You asked me that once.”

Niall scoffs, rubbing his eyes with the back of his arm. It's so dark and bleak and everywhere he looks he sees the concrete walls. Fuck his pride – he just needs to get this shit out instead of keeping it inside to eat away at his sanity for the next year. “I just... I hate it in here. All I can think about is how much I want to go to sleep so another day is over and then when I finally do all I can think about is what I did to get in here.”

He breathes heavily for a few seconds before looking back over at his bunkmate. Styles just looks at him, staying silent for a few moments before nodding his head.

“It's shite,” Niall continues, figuring Styles is just going to listen to him rather than offer up any sort of helpful advice. It's probably just as well. “I'm not a bad person. I'm not someone who does horrible things but now everyone I know thinks I am and the worst part is that I feel like I am. Like...” he sighs again, feelings that fucking lump rise in his throat. He wants to hate Greg but he just can't bring himself to toss him all of the blame.

Because even if it had been wrong, at least he would have helped him out. Since the whole reason he's in prison at all is because of his need to help out his brother. So now, when Greg really needs it he decides to be selfish?

“Like I could have done something to make this a little better, but now he's going through hell because of me.”

Tears well up in his eyes again and slide down his face before he can stop them. Without context that entire ramble probably made little sense.

“I understand,” is all Styles says to him. Somehow his soft, deep whisper makes Niall feel a little bit better.

“You do?”

“Of course I do. The guilt, the feeling of knowing that you're not this person and yet you must be because you're here.”

Niall just nods. Because that's it – that's exactly it.

“I think...” Styles pauses, squinting a little bit like he's trying to find the right words. “I think some people in here wear their sentence like a badge of honour. Like they're almost proud of the things they've done.”

“I'm not,” Niall insists, probably a little louder than he should considering it's the middle of the night. “I swear I'm not!” 

“I know you're not. It's obvious you're not.”

Niall nods his head, trying to absorb what he's been told. “Thank you,” he whispers, as if that's going to make a difference in terms of any other inmates over hearing their conversation at this point.

“You're welcome,” Styles whispers back. And he actually offers Niall a slight smile – which does more good than he probably intended.

Niall rolls back over, facing the concrete wall again. And tears well up in his eyes _again_ but at least they're not coupled with the overwhelming pain of guilt. He still feels like shit, but he also feels a little bit of relief. 

And finally he feels like he's been able to bond with someone. A small weight has been lifted off of his shoulders as he slips back into sleep.

* * *

Niall slinks down into his chair, plopping his breakfast tray down onto the table. As usual, Louis and Payne are his company. Oddly, his plate actually consists of an edible looking breakfast croissant, complete with eggs and bacon.

And stranger still, when Niall looks up at then entrance to the mess he sees Styles shuffle in and get into the food line.

“Horan? Are you even listening?”

“Huh?”

Louis rolls his eyes and takes a dramatic sip of his coffee. “I _said_ , do you reckon we'll be able to get enough people in to watch the Chelsea match tonight? Because I think if we really push for it, we can get them to switch the movie night to the footie.”

“Uh, I really don't know.” 

Louis raises his eyebrow and turns around in his seat, following Niall's gaze. “Oh I get it, you're more interested in Curly over there.”

Niall shakes his head, choosing to ignore Louis as he waves Styles over to where they're sitting. And maybe not that surprisingly, Styles actually nods at him and sits down at the seat across from him.

“You're actually having breakfast,” Niall says, unable to hide the astonishment in his voice.

“Yup,” is all Styles says in return. So not much has changed.

Niall shrugs and goes back to chomping at his sandwich, while Louis and Payne glance at each other and then back down at him. 

“So...” Louis continues, drawing out the word for as long as possible. “About that Chelsea match, then....”

But he's interrupted again. This time by the loud prison siren rather than Niall's wandering gaze to the pretty boy he had a moment with the night before.

“Good lord, what _is it_?” Louis stands up dramatically, following the rest of the inmates as they all stand up and begin to march out of the dining hall and back into the dorms. 

Niall shoves his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants and shuffles along with the rest of the crowd. Just his luck – he finally has breakthrough with his bunkie to the point where he's actually comfortable enough to join them for breakfast and eat something and the fucking siren goes off forcing them all back to the dreary walls of the dorms.

Not like the rest of Forest Bank isn't dreary, but the dorms are the worst part.

They stand outside each of their individual bunks, waiting for the go ahead to be free again. Until whatever mess that's causing this clears up. 

Niall sighs heavily, watching the guards stand around and stare each and every one of them down. Daring them to make a move.

Niall glances over at Styles, making sure to look only for a second to catch his eye.

He doesn't. Styles is just staring straight ahead of him, arms hung at his sides.

“Inmates!” one of the guards booms. Niall can't remember his name – they all look the same to him. Large. Menacing. Like they'd be willing to throw him to the ground and into the maximum security prison at any moment. So he gulps and makes sure to listen very carefully.

“Let me remind you that outside contraband is strictly forbidden. Especially contraband of the illegal substance variety. I don't know why some of you thought you could continue running your drug operation while in Forest Bank, but it stops now.”

Niall furrows his eyebrows and glances around. How the hell would it be possible to run a drug rig from within prison? He couldn't even get his preferred brand of toothpaste in – much less any type of drug.

“So any of you that were receiving your drugs from Khan, know that he's been sent to Maximum Security and that if we find anyone else who's been working with him, we won't hesitate to send you there as well.”

Niall gulps. His chest tightens with fear. The last thing he wants is to be sent to a maximum security facility. He can barely handle _this_. Not that he really has to worry – he's had nothing to do with any of this and he doesn't intend to start.

“Are we clear?”

Silence. Which Niall supposes is a good thing because the guards walk off. Niall finally allows himself to take an actual breath of air and retreats to his mattress. “That was weird.”

Styles just continues looking out into the rest of the dorms. “Hmmmm,” is all he mutters in response. Clearly he's not interested in discussing the issue with Niall.

And Niall shrugs. It's one thing for him to worry about all the shit he's done, but it's quite another to be thinking about the illegal activities within the prison walls. So he grabs his soap and walks off to clear his mind with a shower.

* * *

“You did this!”

So much for having a peaceful shower. Halfway through Niall's morning shave, Malik bursts into the loo and throws Louis against the wall.

“I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about,” Louis scoffs, glancing around before finally making eye contact with Niall. He offers Niall a slight shake of his head, as if to say “What's this arse on about?” but Niall doesn't indulge him.

Still, he can't exactly look away.

“Don't fuck with me, Tommo,” Malik spits. “Naughty Boy was clean. He wasn't dealing and he was doing his fucking time just waiting to get out of here.”

“Obviously you didn't know him as well as you thought.” Louis pushes Malik off of him, rolling his shoulders and attempting to stand tall. 

“You act like I don't know you.” Malik leans down to meet Louis's eyes, their faces only an inch apart. “You act like I haven't been a part of your little schemes and ideas from day one. You act like you're not the reason why I'm in here and why _she's_ dead.”

“I'm not responsible for your decisions.”

“You are responsible for all of the fucking meth we cooked, yeah?” Malik goes on, not moving away from Louis.

Niall shuffles his feet on the ground, along with the other couple of inmates who are trapped in the washroom while Louis and Malik are occupying the doorway.

“Don't think that I'm not watching you.” Malik slams his fist into the wall directly beside Louis's head, but Louis doesn't even blink. Malik turns to leave, but before he does he looks back and points at Niall. “You want a bit of advice, newbie? Stay far, far away from that one if you want to get out of here on time and with good behaviour.”

Half his face is still unshaven, but Niall can't be bothered with that at the moment. Not like it matters anyway – the only reason he shaves now is to achieve some sense of normalcy. Which is shattered every time something like this happens.

“What the fuck?” Niall gives Louis a look as the rest of the inmates go on with the remainder of their ritual.

“He's fucking crazy.” Louis shrugs. “Pissed off that his friend's gone and he's got to spend the rest of his time in here alone, I suppose.” He smirks ever so slightly, and Niall doesn't miss it.

“Did you plant drugs in his bunk?”

Louis clasps a hand to his chest dramatically. “Niall Horan. How bloody dare you.” He throws off his t-shirt and sweatpants, laughing as he steps into a shower stall.

Niall just eyes him suspiciously, because Louis never actually denied that he had a part in Naughty Boy's removal. 

* * *

The weeks go by slowly and meld together in a way that Niall's never experienced before. Seconds can feel like hours one moment, and hours can feel like seconds in another. Things that happened the day before can feel like they happened a month ago, and things that happened a month ago can feel like they took place an hour beforehand.

Like Louis and Malik's argument, for example.

Niall replays it over and over again in his mind. Sometimes he focuses on little details, trying to make sense of them. For instance the way that Louis's face changed for a split second when Mailk mentioned the meth. What did that mean? Or is he just imagining it – it did happen quite a while ago, after all.

Other times he focuses on the bigger questions. The most obvious one being who the girl was that Malik said was dead. How did Malik know (or at least think) that Louis has planted drugs in Naughty Boy's bunk?

Obviously he has no answers, and he's got no way of obtaining them either. Ever since that day it hasn't come up again. Other than the offhand comment from Louis about Malik, that is.

At least it tends to serve as a bit of a distraction from the guilt and suppression plaguing him about his brother. 

Until his name is called on the loudspeaker on Visitation Day. 

“Niall Horan.” It sounds so foreign coming out of the loudspeakers. For the past six Sundays, he's never had a visitor. He almost hopes they'll say it again so that he can be sure. 

It's not like he didn't scribble anyone down on his list. Of course he did – his mum for one. His dad for another. Of course there are a couple of friends. But did he ever expect anyone to make the trek all the way from Ireland? The thought is ridiculous.

And yet, there's his mum, sitting at one of the white tables in a plastic chair, rubbing her hands together as she always does when she's nervous. Niall's breath catches in his throat. He almost wants to turn around and leave. 

But she notices him – face softening as soon as their eyes meet. There's no turning back now.

“Mum,” he says softly when he approaches her. 

She doesn't hesitate to wrap her arms around him, holding him tightly. She lets go after a few seconds, which Niall is grateful for. His mum's never been much of a hugger, so this coupled with the shock of her presence is just awkward.

“You haven't called,” she says curtly, once they've sat down across from each other.

He just shrugs, not interested in explaining himself. He doesn't even think he could if he tried.

“It's nice to see you're alive,” she continues, still looking annoyed for a moment but softening right away. “I've been so worried.”

Niall scratches his arm and avoids looking her in the eyes. “M'fine.”

She scoffs, and Niall wishes she never would have come. It's obvious she cares about him, but she's always had an odd way of showing it. Favouring snarky comments rather than genuine ones. “You're sitting across from me in prison, Niall.”

“I'm still fine,” he snaps. He's anything but – but there's no way he's about to let her know that. There's nothing she can do to help, anyway.

She sighs. “Are you eating enough? You look gaunt...” she reaches out to touch his face, but then pulls back. Probably remembering the rule against touching during visits. 

“I've always been skinny, you know that.”

They sit in silence for a few seconds, neither of them knowing what to say. 

“I've been to see Greg,” she finally says. Niall gapes at her. How could she have chosen to break the ice with that of all things?

“And?” he can't help himself from asking.

“He's not doing well.” That the last thing Niall wants to hear. Why would she think he wants to hear this? Does she want him to feel guilty? Maybe. He wouldn't put it past her. Greg's always been her favourite.

“Right well, he did steal a Renault and hock it for parts.”

“You stole it.”

“Christ.” He grits his teeth together and glares at her. Another thing he wouldn't put past his mum is to come all this way just to feed him a lecture. “I didn't steal it because I wanted to. That was his operation. He told me to do it.”

“And if Greg told you to jump off a bridge-”

“Yes!” He raises his voice, perhaps a little louder than he should have because a few other people look over at him. “I probably would have. You know why? Because he's my big brother and he's a master at fucking manipulating me.”

“Language,” she warns him, and Niall makes a show of rolling his eyes.

“It's the truth.” He pauses, watching her silently. She looks tired, uncomfortable and annoyed. “He's getting right sorted in max then?”

“When I saw him his face was bruised and he had cuts on his neck. They're eating him alive in there. He doesn't belong there. And if you would have just...”

Niall bites the inside of his cheek. Trust his mother to voice everything he's been thinking about since day one. In fact, now that he thinks about it the voice inside his head sounds an awful lot like hers.

“If I would have just lied under oath?”

She takes a deep breath. “If you would have just vouched for his character.”

“I _did_ , it's not my fault his character's a bad one.”

“It's not.” 

Niall really shouldn't be surprised that she's sitting here defending him, but it still stings. “It's not his fault that the two of you got mixed up in a bad crowd. I knew that the two of you moving all the way to England was a bad decision.”

“I'm sorry,” he mutters, because he's tired of arguing with her. It's not getting him anywhere and it's just making him feel worse. 

She doesn't acknowledge his apology. “He's been on good behaviour though. Not fighting back when he's antagonized. Not causing trouble. They said if he stays that way there's the possibility for him to finish his sentence in a minimum security facility.”

Niall nearly feels his blood run cold. The only good thing about being in prison is that he's far away from Greg and his troubles. The absolute last thing he wants is for Greg to be in here, using him and compromising his possibility for early release. Or at the very least release on time and with good behaviour.

“But... that wouldn't be for a while would it?”

She shakes her head, clearly not catching onto the real reason why Niall's asking this question. “I don't know. Probably not for another six months at least.”

“That's too bad,” he says in his most sincere voice possible.

She nods, and finally things seem to be a little better between them. Niall knows it's only because he showed some sympathy towards his bother, but still. It's better than nothing, he supposes.

The rest of the visit passes well enough. So long as Niall doesn't mention Greg again. They chat for a bit about things going on back home – she tells him about her trip over to Italy with his step-dad and the happenings with her group of girlfriends back home. Niall listens to all of it, not offering any anecdotes of his own. His mum could probably care less about the happenings within the prison walls, and Niall's actually somewhat thankful for the escape.

They hug once again when she's about to leave. “Will you come again?” he asks, though it's more of a formality.

She brushes his hair off of his forehead. “We'll see,” she replies.

Niall knows full well what that means. Only if she's also there to visit Greg.

* * *

As soon as he get back into his dorm he lays down on his mattress. Styles is there too, laying on his stomach reading a book as always.

“You had a visitor.”

“Yeh,” Niall replies with a sigh. “My mum.”

Styles nods, shutting his book and turning his attention towards Niall. “And how was that?”

Niall sits up shrugs. “Was all right I suppose. Probably only came here because she had to. She's been...” he trails off, unsure if she should launch into the whole thing. Then figures he might as well. He's gone this far. “She's been to visit my brother.”

Styles raises his eyebrow, but doesn't say anything. He's not much of a talker, which is fine. It allows Niall the opportunity to gather his thoughts before he continues to ramble on.

“She's always been this way with him and me. Like she only ever wanted him and I was the afterthought. She's gone to see him... he's in maximum security. And it's all... you know.” He pauses, looking at Styles and speaking in an octave higher than usual. “Oh Greg's in such pain, they're treating him so poorly in there, and it's all your fault Niall.”

“She didn't actually say that,” Styles says, looking at Niall in disbelief. 

“Well, no.” He shakes his head. She never said those exact words, he was over dramatizing just a little bit. “But she did imply that if I'd lied about what he'd done then he might not have gotten such a harsh sentence.”

“Christ,” Styles breathes. Well, that's a bit of a relief. At least he clearly thinks it's as ridiculous as Niall does.

“Yeah.” Niall shuffles his feet on the concrete floor. “What can I say? She's a bit of a cunt.” He stands up, not interested in talking about this anymore. In fact, if he could forget that entire visit with his mum ever happened, that would be for the best. “I'm going to kick a ball around. Maybe see if Louis wants to join. You want to come then?”

Styles looks like he contemplates it for a second, but then he shakes his head and returns to his book. “No thanks, I'll stay here.”

“Alright.”

* * *

The night falls quickly, and while a game of footie with Louis and a few others served to distract Niall for a couple of hours his thoughts quickly return to the mess with his family when he's alone with them.

It's not like he's learned anything new. His mum likes Greg better – well, she's always liked Greg better. He's known it ever since he was five years old and his parents split and he heard her screaming at his dad about how she wanted Greg to live with her. No mention of Niall at all.

And she blames him for what happened. Well, he figured that was probably the case. She only came to visit him because she went to visit Greg. Also not really a surprise.

The only thing that's really new is the possibility of Greg showing up here. Niall's heart beats a little faster when he thinks about that. His brain starts to spin out into endless possibilities. Most of which are unlikely to come to fruition – but it's still troublesome.

He rolls over and he can hear Styles crying softly into his pillow. It's a noise that sadly Niall's grown accustomed to over the past six weeks. And while it's happened less often lately, it's not like it's a rarity.

“Hey,” he says, trying to keep his voice in a low whisper but project it so Styles can hear him. “Hey, Styles, you alright mate?”

“No.”

“Well obviously,” he says, sitting up. He figures that even if he can't calm his own worries, maybe helping someone else will at least distract him. Plus the crying tugs at his heartstrings more and more each time. And he still doesn't know what it's about. “You want to tell me what's wrong, then?”

“Can't,” he says in a raw voice. 

“Sure you can.” Niall shrugs, even though Styles still has his face buried in his pillow and can't see him. “Nothin' I can do about it in here, but I can listen.”

“It's all my fault,” Styles croaks out, and Niall's heart breaks. He has no idea what his bunkie's on about, but he doesn't have to know the details. It's all the same.

“Hey,” he says, trying to sound soothing and stern at the same time. He's fairly certain he's failed at both, but he continues anyway. “Remember what you told me? That I'm just feeling guilty and I'm not the person that I think I am.”

Styles nods his head, glancing over at Niall. “It's not the same.”

Niall doesn't give up, even if Styles is bent on making this difficult and feeling sorry for himself. “I get it. But we are the same, you know? I don't know what you did, but I don't have to. I know you're a good person and that you feel bad about it... whatever it was. You've... what's your name?” Niall cuts himself off.

Styles turns to look at him, blinking a few times but not bothering to wipe his reddened eyes. “What?”

“Your name. I know your last name, but you've never told me your first name.” Because this feels like far too intimate of a conversation to be having without knowing that. 

“It's Harry.” he says, and Niall's almost surprised he didn't have to fight harder for it. 

“Right, well it's nice to meet you Harry,” he laughs, then starts to introduce himself. “My name's-”

“It's Niall.”

“Yeah,” Niall whispers, then raises his eyebrow. “How'd you know?”

Harry rolls his eyes. “You told me on your first day here.” Then he holds out his hand.

“Oh.” Niall hesitates for a second, but then he gets up, unable to resist this chance at human contact. He takes Harry's hand and Harry gently pulls him down into his own bed.

“Is this alright?” he asks cautiously, eyes green and glassy and searching Niall's face.

“Yeah,” Niall sighs, sliding into bed with him. No touching rules be damned – it's been six weeks since he's felt close to someone. Actually, it's been a lot longer than that but being trapped in here just makes it all worse. 

“Good,” Harry says to him, resting his head next to Niall's. “You make me feel better about all this, Niall.” He rolls over slightly, nipping at Niall's neck with his plump lips.

Niall just hums, trying to be as quiet as possible. The shit with his mum and Greg is definitely forgotten now. Instead his thoughts are firmly focused on his hot skin, Harry's mouth and the blood rushing down to his cock.

“You still all right with this?” Harry whispers, his hot breath tingling in Niall's ear.

“Yes,” Niall grits out. “God Harry, yes. Stop asking.”

Harry obliges, throwing his lips onto Niall's. Their first kiss is rushed, messy and needy. There's nothing slow and tender about it as Harry climbs on top of Niall, lining up their bodies and grinding against him. 

They have to go slowly, because the mattress creaks with every movement and threatens to wake up everyone else in the dorm. But Niall doesn't mind. Hell, any faster and he'd already be finished since it's been nearly two months since he's had a wank and even longer since he's been with someone else.

“Niall,” Harry whispers, reaching his hand into Niall's sweatpants and rubbing his hand along the length of Niall's prick.

Niall groans, squeezing his eyes shut and biting his bottom lip. He should probably be returning the favour, but right now all he can concentrate on his Harry's hand.

It doesn't last long anyway. Harry pulls his hand away, wrapping his arms around Niall's shoulders and thrusting hard against him. Niall wraps his legs around Harry's waist, moving along with Harry and trying to meet his movements. It doesn't take long before he's coming, toes curling and sharp, short breaths barely helping him form words. “Harry,” he moans. “Oh H-harry...”

Harry keeps moving against him for a minute or so, until he reaches his own orgasm. He opts instead to bury his face in the crick of Niall's neck, biting down on his skin.

He rolls off of Niall, the two of them breathing heavily. Niall's sweating, and there's the small matter of the mess inside his pants, but he could care less at the moment. Because this is the best he's felt in weeks.

He snuggles up to Harry, and the two of them fall asleep next to each other without another word.

* * *

The buzzer goes off a few short hours later, signalling that it's time to get up and go to breakfast. The lights turn on in the dorm and the familiar steps of the guards nudge Niall and Harry awake.

Niall opens his eyes and memories of the night before come flooding back to him. Before he has a chance to smile, fear settles in. If he's caught in Harry's bed, he's dead. It'll be solitary confinement for him, he's sure of it.

So he scrambles out from underneath the sheets and into his own bed, his heart pounding in his chest. 

“Sorry,” he says once he lays his head down to make it look like he's been there all night.

“Don't worry about it,” Harry whispers back. “I understand.”

Niall nods, sitting up. The last thing he wants is for this illicit relationship to be cut short because they aren't being careful enough. 

They make their way to the cafeteria together, standing in line and sneaking glances at each other when they think no one's looking. They slink down into chairs next to each other, Niall leading the way over to his usual table with Louis and Payne.

“Morning, lads,” Niall says with a smile, taking a sip of his coffee to hide the obvious happiness on his face.

Louis eyes him and then glances over at Harry. Niall's heart skips a bit, momentarily worrying that Louis has got it all figured out. Not that it would matter – why would it? 

“Morning,” he finally says, not commenting on anything that he knows or doesn't know. “Going on an excursion today.”

Niall nods, trying to contain his giddiness as Harry reaches underneath the table and squeezes his knee. Niall tries to concentrate on Louis's story about how he's taking the prison van and going out into the world to pick up supplies for... something. These stories are so boring, and Harry's touch is far more interesting.

“Anyways, got to get going boys,” he says, shoving the last of his breakfast into his face before taking off. “Have a lovely, lovely day.”

Payne raises his eyebrow, watching Louis go and then turning to Niall and Harry. “I wonder what he'll snag this time.”

“What?” Niall asks, his mouth full of porridge. 

Payne gives him a look. “Don't tell me you haven't figured it out. They let him drive the van, they leave him alone and that's how he gets all his contraband in here.”

Niall's eyes widen. “You never told me that!”

“It's sort of obvious, isn't it?” Payne says, looking at Niall and then over at Harry. “You really didn't know?”

“No! Harry?”

Harry just shrugs his shoulders. 

Niall darts his eyes in between the two of them and then gets an idea. He jumps up from his seat and darts out into the hall and back into the dorms, in search of Louis.

It doesn't take him long to find him – pulling his t-shirt over his head in his own bunk. “Lou!” he calls out. “Lou!” he runs over to him.

“Shouldn't you be back at breakfast with loverboy?” he laughs. “And don't think I haven't figured it out. Took you long enough.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Niall says. He doesn't care that Louis knows what's going on, because in about five seconds, he'd know anyway. “I need you to get me something when you're out.”

“I've got a pretty hefty list, Horan. What're you gonna do for me?” he raises his eyebrow. Hands on his hips. “And I've got about a minute before they come looking for me.”

“I don't know,” Niall nearly shouts. His head is spinning. “Whatever you want. Anything. I'll figure it out later. Just get me a box of condoms and lube, yeah?”

Louis lets out a long breath, and Niall almost wants to remind him that he said he only had about a minute. “You're really going to fuck him then?”

“Obviously.”

“Hm, I didn't think you had it in you.” He slaps Niall on the back before he walks away. “But yeah, I'll get you your shit. You can pay me back later.”

Niall watches him go before making his way back to the cafeteria and his abandoned breakfast. He should feel accomplished and excited and proud of his quick thinking. But as usual, it's masked by worry. Because as usual, when Louis is concerned, something's not quite right.

* * *

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Payne asks, keeping his voice low as he steals the ball away from Niall. Apart from his new found interest in Harry (well, maybe not that new if he's being totally honest with himself) the best way to keep his sanity in prison is by playing footy with the other lads.

“What?” Niall asks, waiting for Payne to pass the ball back to him.

“You can't ask Louis to bring you back shit from the outside world. You do realise you'll be paying him back for that for the rest of your life. Or the rest of your sentence.”

Niall rolls his eyes. “How bad can it be? I'll give him a few of my meals or some money to get something from the canteen. Whatever.”

Payne eyes him and kicks the ball towards him. “Are you mad? That's not what you'll be doing. If you haven't noticed, he's got this place rigged up. It's dangerous to get involved.”

“You're friends with him,” Niall points out, kicking the ball back.

“Yeah, because he's my bunkie and I can't avoid him. Besides, sometimes it's better to be friends with someone than to be their enemy. Plus he's not so bad if you don't get involved. So don't get involved.”

Niall contemplates that for a moment. Yeah, Louis hasn't exactly rubbed him the right way. He's been suspicious of him the whole time, but he's never been anything but nice to him. At least, in his own sassy, Louis way. 

“I just don't want you to fuck anything up.”

Niall nods. He doesn't want to fuck anything up either. 

“And be careful with Styles too. Don't let that get out of hand.”

Niall actually lets out a laugh at that. “It's fine, Payne.”

“I'm just saying, something seems off about him too. Don't get mixed up in anything weird because you're lonely.”

Niall nods, kicking at the ball when Payne passes it back to him. He's really not worried about Harry – what's there to worry about? Other than getting caught, that is. 

“Yeah, thanks,” he says finally, darting towards Payne and stealing the ball before he dribbles it away towards the goal.

“We were playing pass!” Payne calls after him.

Niall just laughs as he kicks the ball into the goal.

* * *

 

Louis returns later that evening, sauntering into Niall's bunk and tossing two condoms and a bottle of lube onto his bed.

Niall peers down at them. “Thanks,” he says, glancing around before grabbing the contraband and stuffing it underneath his mattress. “Only two?” he asks, raising his eyebrow.

Louis rolls his eyes. He's leaning against the concentrate separator, and doesn't make any motion to move. “Only two. We still need to discuss payment, by the way.”

“Right.” Niall had almost forgotten about that. 

“I don't really want money,” Louis says, his accent thick and his voice low. He crosses his arms over his chest and lowers his eyes at Niall. “What I want is just a small favour.”

“Uh huh,” Niall says, sitting back down on his bed. “And what's that?”

Louis glances around the dorms again, presumably to make sure no one's paying them any attention. They're not. At least, not from what Niall can tell when he does a quick scan as well. “I just want you to get friendly with Malik.”

Niall doesn't say anything for a moment. Instead he stares at Louis, trying to gauge if he's truly serious about this. Maybe Liam was right – maybe he shouldn't have gotten involved. Hell, he didn't even do anything and now he's involved.

“Get friendly with him?”

Louis shrugs his shoulders. “Nothing big. Just chat him up, you know? Maybe find out if he's... up to anything. If he's...selling anything...”

“Like he'll talk to me,” Niall scoffs. “He knows I'm friends with you.”

“He'll talk,” Louis insists, smirking and nodding his head. “Believe me, he'll talk if he thinks he can make a sale. Just do it, alright? And don't be seen with me until you do.”

Louis walks off, leaving Niall alone with his thoughts. What the hell is him having a conversation with Malik going to accomplish, and what the hell has he gotten himself into.

He sighs, glancing around the dorms. And where the hell is Harry?

* * *

Harry comes back to the bunk a little while later, looking and smelling fresh.

“Showers?” Niall asks, looking up from his book.

Harry nods, sitting down on his bed and looking over at Niall. “Yup.”

Niall smiles at him, unable to hide his excitement. He glances around to make sure no one's watching. “Guess what I got?”

Harry gives him a look, and Niall scampers off his bed, motioning for Harry to look as he picks up the corner of the mattress to reveal his gifts from Louis.

“Where'd you get those?” Harry asks. Even though he tries to look contemplative, he can't hide the happiness on his face.

“I asked Louis to get them for me.” Niall shrugs, putting the mattress back down before anyone else notices what they're doing. 

Harry narrows his eyes at Niall, choosing to sit beside him on his bunk rather than going back to his own. “Niall...” he says softly, resting his forehead on Niall's shoulder. “Be careful.”

Niall rolls his eyes. He can take care of himself, and the constant warnings are getting tiresome. “I'm fine,” he insists. “What's the big deal anyway? Payne warned me about him too.”

Harry bites his bottom lip and pulls away from Niall. He's obviously deep in thought. “Just look out for yourself.”

“Obviously.”

“What'd you have to do for him?” Harry cuts him off. “What's he got you into?”

Niall watches him. This is definitely the most chatty he's ever seen Harry. It's odd. The whole day has been odd, actually. From the kisses the night before, to their new found relationship, this new found information about Louis and all of this, Niall's suddenly tired. 

“He wants me to find out some stuff about Malik. If he's still dealing or whatever, I guess.”

“Be careful in the middle of those two,” Harry warns.

“I can hold my own,” he says, moving in closer to Harry and rubbing his nose against his cheek before pulling away again. “Besides, what's the big deal? I'll do a little investigating for him, he's got us the goods and we can...” Niall grins, a pink colour spreading across his pale cheeks.

“Yeah...” Harry says, only he doesn't smile along with Niall. “Just don't get your arse sent to max, all right? I kind of need it.”

Niall blushes harder and quickly kisses Harry on the mouth. “I promise you that I won't.”

* * *

“Is this seat taken?” Niall's heart pounds in his chest the next morning at breakfast. As instructed, he's not sitting with Louis and Payne. And Harry is off on his own, after promising Niall that he'd eat. 

And Niall's here. Tired and restless and standing right in front of an empty table, save for Malik and his breakfast tray.

Malik eyes him, looking Niall up and down before waving him into the empty seat. 

“Thanks,” Niall says, sliding into yet another uncomfortable plastic chair.

“Don't think that I don't know that you usually hang around with Tommo,” he says, taking a bite of his scrambled eggs as though they're sitting in a cafe having brunch rather than the bland walls of Forest Bank.

Niall gulps. He should have known that this wasn't going to be easy. For a moment he contemplates going the honest route and just explaining that yeah, he does, and that Louis is the one who sent him over here. Then he remembers that doing so probably wouldn't land him in Louis's good books. Which would mean no more contraband.

And he really doesn't want only two chances to fuck Harry, so he makes up some shit instead.

“Yeah.” He shrugs his shoulders and tries to force out a laugh. He's never been a great actor, but now's as good a time to start as any. “But he's fucked in the head, you know?”

Malik laughs, taking a sip of his coffee and nodding his head. “Yeah, that he is.”

“The more I hang around with him, the more I think to myself that he might actually like being in prison.” He stops to take a bite of his own breakfast, almost surprised at how easily the lies roll off his tongue. Probably because there's at least a hint of truth to them. “And it seems like he likes keeping the people around him locked up in here.”

“That sounds like him. Always out for himself, that wanker.”

“Yeah.” He leans back a little bit, trying to get a bit more comfortable. “The thing is, I don't know about you but I don't really like being in here. I'd really like to just do my time and go home, you know?”

“Mmhmmm...” Malik says, concentrating on his food again.

Niall takes a sip of his coffee, trying to wash down the worry that's rising in his chest. He's shit at this – he's not a manipulator. This is exactly why he couldn't lie and help out Greg. Hell, this is exactly why he got mixed up in Greg's shit in the first place. Because he can't let people down and he can't fucking stand up for himself. “The thing is...” he leans into the table, narrowing his eyes and lowering his voice. His heart's pounding but he tries his best to ignore it, putting everything he has into his performance. “It's boring as fuck in here, and I really need something to take the edge off...”

Malik puts his fork down and eyes Niall. Niall's sure that Malik can hear his heart pounding and he tries to stabilize his breathing as though not to give himself away 

“What have you heard?” Malik finally asks him.

Niall leans back in his chair again, taking another sip of his coffee. “I haven't heard anything. I'm just talking, mate.”

“Right,” Malik says, glancing around and then leaning into the table. “Well if you ever feel the need to get rid of that edge, you come see me at the gate behind the track after lunch but before the 4 o'clock count. You know where that is?”

Niall only nods his head. Did he actually manage to get some kind of useful information? 

“Good. Now get the fuck out of my sight. I prefer to eat alone.”

Niall obliges, grabbing his tray and nearly tripping over his chair as he walks away. Not the smoothest performance, but at least he got what he wanted. He looks around – Harry's nowhere to be found. Probably scarfed down his breakfast and got out of there as fast as he could. Obviously he can't sit with Louis, so he finds a table with no one else at the end and sits down to finish his food in silence.

His heart's still pounding, but he can't help feeling a little bit proud of himself.

* * *

“Are you fucking mad, get out of here!” Niall wants to shout, but instead he keeps his voice low so he doesn't alert anyone else that Louis has just accosted him in the shower stall.

“Shhh...” Louis holds his finger to his lips and laughs a little bit. “Just a second.” He leans over and much to Niall's horror, he actually turns the water on.

“What the fuck?” he can't help raising his voice this time, especially as the ice cold water strikes him in the back. On the list of the worst, most awkward moments of his life this is definitely in the top two.

“Don't want anyone to hear us. We can't be seen together, remember? Don't worry, I'll be quick and then you can get back to your wank,” he laughs.

“Won't be wanking after this, believe me,” Niall snaps, looking up and down Louis's naked body and glaring at him.

“Oh Horan,” Louis laughs again, placing his hand on Niall's shoulder and shaking his head. “You wish you could have a piece of this.”

“What do you want?” Niall asks. At least the water's warming up a little, so that's something. 

“You know what I want. What did Malik have to say?”

Niall sighs. But he figures as soon as he's out with it Louis will leave and he can get back to his shower. Which is supposed to be his one moment of serenity for the day. So much for that. “He said if I wanted to buy drugs, he could help me out at that rickety gate by the track.”

“That fucker,” Louis breathes. “He actually said that?”

Niall shrugs. “I tried to talk in code, I said I needed something to take the edge off-”

“You pussy.”

“Fuck you, I'm the one doing your dirty work!” Niall protests, reaching for his soap because his time is running out and he'd rather not be a greasy mess for the rest of the entire day on account of Louis.

“Right well, you've got to go buy something from him.”

Niall glares at him, lathering up his hands and rubbing the subs in his hair. “Absolutely not.”

Louis lets out an exasperated sigh. “You've got to. Otherwise he'll know it was a setup. Do you want him to know you were just feeling around for information?”

“That wasn't part of the deal.” Niall leans his head back, letting the soap rinse out of his hair and run down his back into the drain. “I told you I'd have a chat with him and I did. If you want more information about his drug rig you need to get me more stuff from the outside.”

Louis raises his eyebrow. “Have you even used what I got you? Besides,” he glances downwards. “From the looks of it, you don't really need any help fitting that in anywhere.”

“The water is cold,” Niall says through gritted teeth. “Just do it.”

Louis smirks, but nods his head all the same. “All right Horan, you've got yourself a deal.” He slinks out of the shower, leaving Niall alone for the one minute he's got left.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he mutters to himself, washing the rest of his body as quick as he can. The sex with Harry better be worth it, because he's sure he's just got himself into a mess that's going to be impossible to get himself out of.

* * *

At two in the afternoon, Niall shuffles outside with his hands in his pockets. He's got £10 in his pocket. More contraband – but this time it's supplied by Louis in order to buy whatever Malik is selling.

“It'll be enough,” Louis insisted as he stuffed the money into Niall's hands before getting the hell out of his bunk. “It'll definitely be enough.”

Niall's not worried about that. He does a couple laps around the track in order to both look inconspicuous and to calm his nerves. What he is worried about is being caught with whatever Malik gives to him before he can give it back to Louis. Or for Malik to find out that he's passed this information onto Louis. Or for Harry to find out about this entire mess.

Two days into their relationship and he's already keeping secrets from him. Great.

Niall takes a deep breath as he finishes his third lap and looks around before he walks off over towards the gate. Behind a couple of the posts he spots Malik standing there, smoking a cigarette.

“Where'd you get that?” Niall asks and then quickly chastises himself. That's the least of his concerns right now.

Malik just laughs and shakes his head. “Never mind about that. You got money?”

“Uh yeah,” Niall fishes around in his pocket. “Ten.”

“Ten!” Malik laughs. “You must really be hurting for it. I can't give you any change.”

“Whatever.” The second least of his concerns.

Malik takes the money and reaches into his pocket, pulling out a dime bag filled with what Niall recognises as Crystal Meth. Not that Niall's ever tried it – the most he's ever done is smoke a few joints with his mates before he left Ireland. But he'd certainly seen it around the apartment when Greg and his friends were chilling. Which was most of the time.

“Thanks,” Niall says, stuffing it into his pocket and backing away.

“Cheers, mate,” Malik says, taking another drag from his cigarette.

Niall's certain that his time in prison is going to take more than thirteen months off of his life, because his heart starts to pound in his chest again. It gets even worse when he walks back inside, right past the guards and into his bunk.

Thank God Harry's not in the bunk when he gets back, because the last thing Niall wants is for him to be an accomplice in all of this. He stuffs the meth underneath his mattress and lays down on his bed. Now all he can do is wait for an opportunity to get this shit to Louis and wash his hands of it.

* * *

He reaches back underneath his mattress two hours later – after supper and after barely eating the inedible “pasta” and “chicken” on his tray.

He sat alone with Harry, still thinking it best to stay away from Louis still. But after picking at his meal for five minutes, Harry stepped out of his chair and whispered in Niall's ear. 

“Meet me in the church in ten minutes.”

Harry's hot breath sent shock waves tingling down Niall's spine. And the seconds ticked by slowly, until he can get up and do as Harry says.

He glances over at the stupid baggie of meth that's still sitting underneath his mattress. Can't really let himself think about that shit now. He'll deal with it later. For now...

“Oh Harry,” he groans, bucking his hips as Harry sucks him off. His t-shirt is sticking to his chest and both his and Harry's sweatpants and boxers are discarded off to the side. Close by in case he needs to rapidly pull them back on.

Harry pops his mouth off of Niall's cock. “Shhh,” he warns. His lips are plump and glossy, covered in saliva. “Do you want to get caught?”

“N...no...” Niall breathes. Definitely not. He's still hard and throbbing, aching to be back in Harry's mouth.

But Harry doesn't appease him. Instead he takes Niall's hand and pulls him down onto the floor with him.

"Mmm," Niall moans as Harry pulls him down on top of him. "Oh, Harry...” The floor is cold on his bare legs, but he doesn't even notice. Everything feels too good, he has to bite down on his lip to keep from coming right then and there.

"Easy," Harry whispers, flipping Niall over onto his back. He traces his finger along Niall's inner thigh, before stopping at his entrance. "Do you want to?"

"Yes," he says eagerly. Obviously.

Harry smiles. His dimples poke into his cheeks in a way that Niall's never seen before. God, he's perfect. Absolutely perfect. Harry reaches over into the pile where their sweatpants are sitting and pulls out the bottle of lube that Niall acquired. Niall watches with anticipation as Harry squirts some onto his fingers. "Tell me if it hurts."

Niall nods, arching his back and lifting his hips up as Harry inserts one finger into him. It hurts a little, but not as bad as Niall thought it might after all this time. 

"You alright?" Harry asks, locking eyes with Niall.

"Y-yeah," he nodded. "Keep going."

Harry definitely knows what he's doing, moving his finger in and out of Niall until eventually adding a second. Niall gasps at the intrusion - not expecting it but adjusting to it after a couple of seconds.

Then Harry's longer middle finger brushes against his prostate and Niall can't help but moan. Pleasure shoots through his body and his dick throbs with anticipation. All he can think about is Harry fucking him - his toned body hovering on top of his own. 

"Fuck, Harry," Niall moans again, opening his eyes and looking up at him. He's not even thinking about the possibility of them getting caught. He really couldn't care less at the moment. "Let's do this."

Harry shakes his head slightly, still working Niall with his fingers. He obviously has more experience in this area than Niall does – which is a little surprising. It's not like Niall's a virgin, after all. 

"You sure?" Harry asks after a couple more minutes of Niall's moans. He doesn't even bother to tell him to quiet down.

"Y-yeah."

Harry nodded, pulling his fingers out of Niall and reaching over to the pile of clothes to grab a condom. He wastes no time in ripping the package open and rolling it on himself. Like a complete expert, it's like Harry's a whole other person. Niall briefly wonders how many times he's done this before.

Until Harry climbs on top of Niall and lines his cock up to Niall's hole. Then the thought was completely forgotten.

It's a lot different than Harry fingers. His prick is so much fuller and thicker and Niall gasps as Harry enters him. He practically stops breathing as Harry slides all the way inside.

"It's alright?" Harry asks him.

Niall just nods. He's sure his face is beet red. It's so painful, so new, but fuck, Harry's so hot and he's so turned on at the same time. There's no way in hell he's going to tell him to stop.

Harry nods, slowly sliding out of Niall and then back inside to let him get used to the feeling. Niall's heart pounds in his chest as Harry fucks him. He wraps his arms around Harry and kisses him deeply, thrusting upwards to match Harry's movements.

It gets better as Niall gets used to it. Harry moves a little faster, rolling his hips against Niall and letting Niall's cock brush against his torso. For the first time since he got here, it's like he can actually feel again. His senses are on overdrive. Harry's cock inside of him and his own touching Harry - he doesn't know whether he's going to come or scream out.

"Niall," Harry groans, leaning down closer to him. "Oh fuck, Niall, you're so tight."

Niall can't even form words, so he just groans and lets Harry continue against him. His cock aches for release but he's not about to let himself come until Harry's finished. 

Harry moves faster. Faster and faster as Niall's skin rubs against the concrete floor. He grips Niall's shoulders, grunting until he stops. Niall can feel Harry's dick spasm inside of him as he comes. He sighs, but he's still turned on as fuck.

Harry opens his eyes hazily and blinks at Niall a couple of times before pulling out of him. 

"You didn't," he said softly, before moving downwards.

Niall groans, thrusting his hips up as Harry once again takes his length into his mouth. He's already on the brink of orgasm as it is, Harry's mouth just seals the deal. His plump lips stretched around Niall's cock is enough for pleasure to shoot through his abdomen, through his shaft and straight into Harry's mouth.

"Fuck," Niall groans as his chest tightens. He gasps as his orgasm rips through his body, relief overcoming him.

Harry smiles, wiping his mouth with his hand before touching Niall's face softly. “That was...”

"Mmhmmmm," is Niall's only response. He's certain he's on cloud nine.

* * *

It takes Harry and Niall approximately six days to use up all of the contraband Niall managed to acquire from Louis. Two days to use up both condoms, and the rest of the time being irresponsible and using just the lube. But they didn't exactly land themselves in prison by making good choices, so why start now?

But a week goes by and Niall's itching for it. Plus there's the matter of the stupid drugs he's stashed away. He still hasn't had a chance to talk to Louis and get those out of his possession.

Well, that's not entirely true. He supposes he has, but all his free time he's spent sneaking away with Harry. And for much of the evenings, the common areas are too crowded for him to try and do anything inconspicuous.

So he usually drifts off to sleep, promising himself he'll deal with it tomorrow.

_Niall strolls back into his bunk, his face red and his nerves on edge. Harry's following quickly behind him of course, all smiles, which is less of a rarity these days._

_Until they notice the two guards standing in between their two bunks. Before Niall can utter a word, he's being forced to the ground, his face slamming into the hard concrete._

_“What the fuck is this?” one of the guards says to him, while the other one restrains him._

_Niall peels open his eyes, pain searing through his cheeks and chest. All he can see in front of him is the fucking baggie of meth._

_“It's not mine,” he manages to get out._

_“Like hell it's not,” the guard says to him. “It was in your bunk. Found on a raid. What did we tell you about illegal drugs, inmate?”_

_Niall just winces as he's pulled upwards and dragged away._

_“The easy life's over for you. You're on your way to max for the rest of your sentence, and you'll be lucky if it's not extended.”_

_Niall gulps, tears welling up in his eyes. Fucking Louis. He knew he shouldn't have got involved with this shit. The last thing he sees when he looks back is Harry's stunned face – shrouded in sadness once again._

Niall wakes up with a jolt, shaking and sweating from his nightmare. He rolls over and glances at Harry – whose chest is rising and falling underneath the blanket. He's sound asleep, which is good because Niall really doesn't want him to witness this.

As quietly as he can, he slides out of the bed and pulls up the mattress, grabbing the baggie of meth before tip-toeing over to Louis's bunk and shaking him awake.

“Get up,” he mutters, leaning his face close to friend's. Or enemy's. He hasn't completely settled on their standing yet.

“Mmph.” Louis mutters, opening his eyes slightly. “What do you want, Horan?”

“Take your shit, I'm done holding onto it for you.” He tosses the meth to Louis and it lands on his chest.

Louis clasps his hand over it, shoving it under his blanket. “Are you mad?” he asks, his voice hushed but still harsh. “What're you doing with that?”

“You told me to get it from Malik, remember? Well I got it, and I don't want it, so I'm getting rid of it.”

Louis rolls his eyes, but he doesn't argue. Instead he takes it and reaches underneath his mattress to hide it.

“I'm done with this shite now,” Niall says, pointing his finger in Louis's face and trying his best to be intimidating. “Oh, and don't forget about the stuff you owe me.” He gives Louis a final look before stepping out of the bunk and back to his own.

He climbs back into bed and pulls the covers up to his neck. Taking a deep breath, he closes his eyes and tries to relax. There's nothing more to worry about now.

* * *

And for the next month or so, he's right. Things go back to normal, for the most part. As normal as they can, anyway. He spends his days with Harry, playing footy with Payne and he even ends up going back to his regular routine of sitting and having lunch with the group. Which includes Louis. Which he was nervous about at first but doesn't seem to be an issue.

That is, until Louis saunters into his bunk one morning when Harry's gone off to take a shower.

“I smoked that meth you got from Malik,” he says, leaning back against the wall.

Niall just looks up at him, narrowing his eyes. “I don't care.”

But Louis ignores him, continuing as though Niall had actually shown interest. Like he hadn't been told very clearly a month before that he wanted nothing more to do with any of this and that he wanted to be left out of it. 

“That dickface is using my recipe,” he says in disgust. “Can you believe it?”

No, Niall can't believe it. He's not even sure what that means. But he's seen a bit of Breaking Bad, so he knows enough. “How can he be using your recipe? Maybe it's leftovers. You can't seriously think he's cooking in here.”

“Of course he's not cooking in here,” Louis shoots back at Niall, giving him a glare and then looking back out into the dorms. “He's got someone on the outside doing his dirty work.”

“Maybe a girlfriend,” Niall says. He's just theorizing. Anything to get Louis off the topic.

“No...” Louis still looks deep in thought. “That can't be it. But we need to find out.”

“We?!” Niall asks incredulously, unable to keep his voice low and his expression even. “There's no 'we.' Just you, because I told you I'm done with this.”

“No, Horan, _we_ ,” Louis says. “You helped me get that meth in the first place, you know? You're in it now, whether you like it or not.”

“I'm really not,” Niall replies, rolling his eyes. “Just let me get back to my life, Louis.”

Louis looks Niall up and down before leaning over to him. Niall draws in a breath and glances around to make sure Harry's not coming back. He isn't. He looks back up at Louis, their faces inches apart. Louis's brown eyes staring into his own.

“You think I can't make your life a living hell? You've got no idea what you've got yourself involved with. I know people on the outside and in max. So don't think you're getting out of this easily.”

Niall narrows his eyes. His heart starts to pound but he doesn't let that on. If there's one thing he's noticed over the past couple of months – he's become a far better actor than ever before.

Louis pulls away from Niall. He leans back and laughs. “Anyway, Horan, that's the deal. Take it or leave it. Don't think I don't have my ways of getting what I want.”

Niall rolls his eyes outwardly, but inside he's a ball of worry. Louis's cackle isn't helping things, and he's probably right. He's got no idea what he's gone and got himself involved with. 

He sighs to himself. Even in prison he can't help but find trouble.

* * *

That night he tosses and turns. No nightmares, thank god. But that's only because he estimates he's got about eight minutes of sleep in the past four hours.

He rolls over and looks across the floor at Harry. He's restless as well, tossing about. But he at least appears to be asleep.

Niall tosses a pillow at him, waking him up. He knows he's being a bit selfish – but he rationalizes it because it's clear Harry's not having the best dreams anyway. 

“Harry,” he whispers. He leans over the side of his bed, his arms dangling over the side. 

Harry stirs, but he doesn't wake up.

“Harry,” Niall says again, firmer this time. He glances around, trying to make sure he hasn't alerted any guards to his disobedience. He hasn't.

“Yeah?” Harry finally mutters, not opening his eyes.

Niall's silent for a moment. And in that moment he considers just blurting everything out. Everything about Louis and the meth shit he's got himself involved. How bad it's become since he first mentioned it as a one off. How he bought from Malik and how he's pretty sure that one of them is going to try to kill him now, it's just a matter of whom.

“Niall?” Harry rolls over and looks at him, his green eyes cloudy with sleep. Niall figured he probably probably can't see much, considering how dark it is in the dorms at night. The charcoal coloured walls do little to hold any light, and there certainly isn't any coming in from the outside.

Hell, there isn't much at the best of times, so why would there be at three in the bloody morning?

Niall gulps, but instead of focusing on the problem at hand everything out that's been sitting in the back of his mind comes rushing out.

“My brother's going to come here,” he says, haste apparent in his voice. “If he's on good behaviour in max they'll send him here, and he'll fuck everything up.”

“What?” Harry shifts in the bed, squinting his eyes and focusing on Niall. “Where'd you hear that?”

“Mum,” he says, picking at the skin around his fingers. 

“Your mum came to visit again?” Harry asks, and then frowns when he watches Niall start to bite at his thumbnail. “Don't do that.”

Niall sighs, dropping his hand from his mouth and looking at Harry. “No... I just... I worry about it. The only good thing about being in here is being away from him. He gets me to do some fucked up shit, Harry.”

Harry sighs. He does a quick glance around before slipping out of his bed and sliding into Niall's. “I won't let that happen,” he whispers, kissing the top of Niall's head.

Niall nods. He wants to believe Harry. He really, really does. But the back of his mind is still spinning as he closes his eyes. He breathes in Harry's scent – a musky mix of Dove and... something Niall can't quite put his finger on. It serves to calm his thoughts a little, but not much. Louis's words still ring inside of his head, and now they're paired with the worry about his brother.

He can hear Harry's breathing get deeper. Obviously he's fallen back asleep. Niall readjusts, trying to get comfortable.

His eyes feel heavy, but everything else is on overdrive. All he can do is lay there and worry.

* * *

“The rule is _no touching_!” 

Niall has no time to wake up much less comprehend what's happening before he's hauled out of bed. Two hands pull at his upper arms and tear him away from Harry.

 _Fuck fuck fuck..._ is all that swirls through his head. He glances over to he Harry being dragged away. And he tries to scream and make sense of everything but he can't. Because he's tired and half asleep and almost delirious.

“No. Touching.” The guard drags him out of the bunk, Niall's bare feet dragging along the concrete floor. He can't get a grip to try and walk, he's being pulled away too fast. “To solitary until the two of you learn your lesson.”

Niall's throat tightens and his eyes widen. Now he's awake. But he knows better than to struggle and fight. That's only going to make it worse. So he just lets himself hang limp as he gets dragged away. Through the halls with the other inmates staring, and down the stairs into the abyss of god knows what.

He gets tossed into a small room with nothing more than a cot, a piss bucket and four white walls. Just when he hits the ground the door slams and the lock latches.

He looks around. Pain sears through his shoulders and into his back, but it's nothing compared to the twisting in his stomach. 

Tears should be welling up in his eyes but they don't. He's too stunned to cry, and too fearful of what's to come. Because all it's about to be is a big fat nothing. 

All he can hear is the sound of his own breaths. In and out, filling up his lungs and spilling out of his mouth. Faster and faster, leaving no time for the oxygen to get to his brain and no time for him to calm himself down out of a panic attack. Still laying on the ground, he tries to catch a breath. His tongue is stuck inside of his dry mouth and he tries to click it and swallow but it doesn't help.

The tightness in his chest is unbearable. It crushes down on him like a weight he can't ever hope to lift. He rocks himself back and forth, trying to create some form of steadiness. Something that he can control.

He has no idea how long he does that for, gasping for air and rocking from side to side. His mind drifts over to Harry, wherever he is. In solitary confinement as well, since the guard said they both had to learn their lesson.

 _Harry Harry Harry..._ Harry was doing so well! And now he's going to be tossed away. Alone and afraid and stuck by himself with whatever thoughts were making him so depressed before Niall came along and helped him through it. And whatever it was must have been bad, because he was literally crying in his bunk every night. The memory of Harry's muffled sobs hit Niall hard, and that's when the tears start to stream down his face.

The salty water runs along the sides of his face and into his mouth. He licks his lips, but the tears keep coming. Clogging up his eyes and sinuses making breathing even harder.

“Oh god,” he chokes out, clinging to short breaths. How the hell is he going to make it through this? How the hell is Harry going to make it through this? “Oh god...”

* * *

Niall's eyes are crusty, sticking together from the tears that wouldn't stop falling. His mouth is dry, but there's no water in sight for him to drink.

He sits up, still on the floor from when he was tossed in... one hour ago? Six hours ago? He truly has no idea. He crosses his legs and put his head in his hands. 

His eyes burn, even though he thinks he's fallen asleep. He must have. It's odd not knowing. Everything in here is so bleak and silent. His thoughts seem to come alive because they're the only thing to keep him company. 

He wonders what Harry's doing right now. If he's crying, or sleeping, or sitting there worrying about everything he's ever done. Jesus Christ, Niall wishes he could hold him. He glances over at the wall. He contemplates scratching at it to try and relieve some of the tension in his bloodstream.

All he wanted to do was go through his sentence without getting into trouble. All he wanted was to make it thirteen months without causing problems for himself. All he wanted was to get out of this place with a clean record and a chance to start over.

Who knows if that'll happen now. Any good behaviour that he had is likely blown away with this little stint.

He gulps, not bothering to move from his position on the hard, cold floor. He starts rocking back and forth again, the motions serving to calm his brain a little.

If only Harry hadn't climbed into his bed. But this isn't his fault – he was just trying to help. And how does Niall repay him? By fucking falling asleep when he couldn't for the rest of the night and getting the both of them thrown into solitary confinement.

But whose fault is it really? Niall squeezes his eyes shut and replays the events of the night before to himself. Greg's fault for worming his way into Niall's brain.

No. Louis's fault for threatening him and trying to get him involved in the mess with Malik.

But he's already involved in the mess with Malik.

Niall's fault for asking for a favour from Louis and getting trapped in the cycle of payback. But that was only because he wanted to bang Harry and saw a way to make that happen.

Harry's fault for being so fucking irresistible and perfect that Niall couldn't help but... no. Not Harry's fault. Never Harry's fault. Niall was the one who kept trying to break through his tough exterior. It's not Harry's fault he managed to get through.

Niall's fault for constantly keeping on Harry. Niall's fault for getting to know Harry in the first place. Niall's fault for getting thrown into prison.

Greg's fault for getting Niall involved in his car jacking shit.

Niall scratches at the top of his scalp with both of his hands. He digs into his skin, letting his fingernails massage his head at a rapid pace. When he pulls away, his own blood it stuck underneath his fingernails.

Greg's fault for bringing him to Manchester. Greg's fault for losing his job. Greg's fault for getting involved with those dicks who steal cars. Greg's fault for almost getting caught and needing Niall to do his dirty work. Greg's fault for finally getting himself caught and getting both of them sent to prison.

Niall stares at his hands His bloodshot eyes blur the image of his skin.

Greg's fault.

* * *

Food comes multiple times. Niall's lost count. The first few meals he wasn't hungry enough to even bother touching it. When he eventually he did, he picked around the mold on the bread and gave up.

He doesn't quite remember when he made his move from the floor to the rickety cot, but it's been a while. He stares up at the ceiling, counting the water spots over and over again. He usually loses count around twenty-seven.

The only noise he can hear is his own breath. They're raw and hollow inside of his ears. His lungs feel like they're going to collapse into his ribcage, which he can feel with every rise and fall of his chest.

He doesn't cry anymore. There's nothing left to cry about. His mind keeps bouncing in between Harry and Greg. 

Greg fills him with rage and gets his blood moving fast. He balls up his fists and clenches his teeth together. His fucking brother got him into this mess, and he'll be damned if he lets him fuck anything up in his life again.

Harry calms him back down. He tries to remember the feeling of their bodies tangled together. Of the way their his lips felt against his skin. He loosens his grip on the sheets and takes long, drawn out breaths. The second he gets out of here he's going to fall into his arms.

Then his mind drifts back to Greg, and he squeezes his eyes shut again. The second he gets out of here there's literally nothing he can do about him but wait for him to show up here and make everything a million times worse than it already is.

But with Harry around it can't possibly be _that_ bad.

And so the cycles continues...

* * *

There are three hundred and seventeen water spots on the ceiling when the concrete door creaks open. The sound is so foreign that Niall doesn't recognize it at first. He turns his head towards it, not bothering to get up.

“Horan, let's go.” Two guards enter through the doorway, each of them grabbing one of his arms. They're gentler this time – actually affording Niall the opportunity to walk along with them rather than dragging him.

Niall groans as they haul him up the stairs and back into the main prison area. Back through the halls and towards the dorms. It must be recreation time, because inmates are scattered about. Some of them are in their bunks, others are in the common rooms.

They force him into his bunk and towards his bed. “That'll teach you,” one of them says, snorting before they walk away.

He looks over at Harry's bunk. It's not empty. The object of his affection is laying there on his back, staring that the ceiling. Just as Niall had been doing for the past... however long. He has no idea. It feels like weeks, but realistically he knows it was probably just days. Still, rational thought isn't exactly at the forefront of his mind.

All he wants to do is rush over to Harry and collapse on top of him. Of course he can't do that – it'll land both of them back in solitary. And surveillance on the two of them is probably higher than ever before.

“I'm sorry,” he says instead, his throat tightening and threatening to choke out sobs. He fumbles with his hands, not knowing what to do with them but not wanting to just sit there stoic. “I'm so sorry, Harry.”

Harry sits up slowly and shakes his head. He clasps his hands together and lets them fall into his lap as he looks up at Niall. “It's not your fault. I'm sorry. I should have been more careful.”

Niall's mouth hangs open. Tears are welling up in his eyes. After days of being on his own, finally having another person to talk to is almost too much for him to bear. “God Harry, all I wanted to do was be with you.”

“Me too.” Harry's voice is rough. His green eyes are droopy and dark circles sit underneath them. They're nowhere near as bright as Niall remembers them. He looks like a wreck, and guilt overcomes Niall. No matter what Harry says, he knows that this is all his fault. Or Greg's fault for getting him in here in the first place. Niall's tired and weak, but that doesn't stop his heart from speeding up with rage at the thought of his brother.

“I couldn't stop thinking about you,” Harry continues, looking down at the ground. He shakes his head and his hair brushes the tops of his shoulders. “All I could think about was how if you were there with me it wouldn't be so bad. I felt like I was counting down the seconds until I could see you again.”

He looks back up at Niall and makes eye contact with him. Niall nods. It's like Harry took the words right out of his own mouth. If he was eloquent enough to say them in such a way.

Harry takes a deep, shaky breath. “I love you, Niall.”

Niall's heart speeds up in a way that has nothing to do with anger. Maybe it's too soon. Maybe it's just because of the flood of emotion of seeing each other again. Maybe it's because they're all each other has in this horrible place. Whatever it is, Niall can't help but say it back. “I love you too, Harry.”

They look at each other, studying each other's faces. Niall looks down at Harry's lips. He longs to kiss them, but there's no way he can do that. No way he's going to risk getting thrown away again after they've just been reunited. That'll have to wait until they can sneak away to somewhere more private. Instead they both lean in towards each other. They reach their arms out, letting their fingers brush together for a brief moment. 

And for that moment, Niall's calm.

* * * 

It doesn't last long. When Harry heads off to take a shower, Niall heads straight for Louis's bunk. He'll have a shower later. It's not like his hair can get any greasier. He runs a hand through it, and sure enough it stays in place.

But he doesn't care. He charges over to Louis's bunk. Neither he or Payne are there, so he sits down on his bunk and waits. He taps his foot on the ground, needs to do something to release all this pent up energy. Thought it's not like he's not used to waiting.

Finally, Louis shows up from god-knows-where.

“Horan!” he laughs as soon as he sees him, slapping a hand to his chest. “You're alive.”

“Yeh,” Niall says, standing up and shoving his hands into his pockets. He casually saunters towards Louis, trying to look as nonchalant and possible. In his mind, he's James Dean. Slick, cool, collected and suave. “Had a lot of time to think.”

“Oh yeah?” Louis furrows his eyebrows and crosses his arms. 

“Yeah,” Niall says, drawing out the word. “Thought a lot about what you said about me helping you out with Malik.”

Louis lifts his chin and slowly nods his head upwards.

“Reckon I'll help you out.” Niall folds his arms across his chest and places one hand on his chin. “But you'll be helping me out too. With those connections of yours in max.”

Louis scoffs. “What makes you think that I've got the capability to do anything?”

Niall walks up closer to him. He tries as best he can to look intimidating, but it's difficult since he's shorter than Louis. He stands on the balls of his feet, getting up into Louis's face. “I know you're the reason Naughty Boy got sent out of here. I need you to keep my brother locked up in max. Keep him the fuck away from me.”

“And how do you propose I do that?” Louis cocks his head to the side, not backing away from Niall.

“I don't care,” Niall says, shaking his head. “Get him in a fight, get some drugs into his cell. Whatever it is, you do it. And I'll get you your meth from Malik so you can keep smoking it and acting like you've got a plan.”

Louis laughs, taking a couple steps backwards. “All right, Horan. You've got yourself a deal.”

Niall breathes an inward sigh of relief. Thank god, because he didn't have much more of that left in him. Everything pent up inside him from his trip to solitary is run dry. “Good,” he says, giving Louis a final look before walking off.

* * *

A shower certainly feels better, but six hours later Niall finds himself sweaty again.

Only this time he and Harry are together. Back in their not-so-secret meeting place in the church, behind the stage. His t-shirt his sticking to his chest and his erection creates a tent in his sweatpants. Harry's arms slide up and down his back while they kiss, their bodies tangled together but not close enough.

Niall pulls away from Harry, wiping some of the sweat collecting on his boyfriend's forehead with his thumb. He blinks a couple times, noticing the scratches for the first time since they've been reunited.

“What happened to your head, love?” he asks, leaning in and nipping at his neck.

Harry doesn't answer him right away. He sighs and closes his eyes, taking in the feeling of Niall's lips on his skin. “Went a bit crazy in solitary,” he finally says, his voice low.

Niall just keeps kissing him, moving from his neck to the space behind his ear. He has to push Harry's hair out of his way. 

“It was like, the voices inside my head were so loud... I had to bang it against the wall to stop them.” He sounds almost embarrassed when he says it. 

But Niall pulls away from him and nods his head. He understands. Of course he understands – the sanest of people would go crazy being locked away from everyone and everything for an indefinite amount of time. Especially when all they're left with is their thoughts. And it certainly doesn't help when those thoughts already have a tendency to be destructive. 

“It's alright,” Niall says softly, leaning in to kiss Harry on the mouth. “We're back together now.”

Harry topples into their kiss, falling on top of Niall. Niall wraps his legs against Harry's waist, rocking against him. How many times had he imagined this when he'd been away from him? His memory was lacking a little, because he didn't think he remembered it being this good.

His whole body feels like it's on fire as he moves with him. His chest feels warm and tears collect in the corners of his eyes but don't fall. That no touching rule is such bullshit – how can they be allowed to deny him a pleasure such as this?

Niall lets out a moan as Harry pulls down the band of his sweatpants and works his fingers around his entrance. Harry's touch feels so perfect, so right. He pulls him closer – holding him as tight as he can while Harry works him.

This is the silver lining. This is the best possible outcome to having to spend thirteen months in a shit hole. Who knew that he would come here and find the love of his life?

Whether that's a bit of an exaggeration or not, it certainly doesn't feel that way when Harry finally pushes his cock inside of him. He can't help but moan – maybe a little too loudly. Harry whispers a “Shhh,” in his ear as they move together.

“Harry,” Niall pants. “Take off your shirt.”

Harry pulls away, looking at him. They never do that – easier to get dressed in case someone comes into the church and threatens them getting caught. But Harry does it – whether he sees the need in Niall's eyes or needs it himself, he pulls out of Niall and pulls his shirt off.

Niall rips in own shirt off and tosses it to the side. Just in time for Harry to fall back onto him and push himself back inside.

Their skin sticks together in a way that Niall's never felt before. They go slowly – clinging to each other, not wanting to pull away in favour of a rougher fuck. 

Before this, Niall never actually knew what it meant to make love to someone. He's just spent a painful few days in solitary confinement, but this is the most vulnerable he's ever felt. And at the same time the most comfortable. 

“I love you, Niall,” Harry whispers into his ear.

And that's what does it for him. He bites his bottom lip, shaking and coming and holding Harry as tight as he's able. Harry comes too – digging his fingers into Niall's back and moaning softly. 

“I love you, Harry,” Niall replies after taking a couple seconds to catch his breath.

Harry nods his head, kissing Niall on the cheek before pulling away. He picks up his shirt and pulls it over his head. He gives Niall and apologetic look. “Just don't want to risk getting thrown into the SHU again.”

Niall nods, following Harry's lead. The two of them walk through the church in silence, hands linked together until they step through the doors.

* * *

It's odd, this. This sense of calm that fills Niall ever since he got out of solitary. The walls of the prison seem friendlier, somehow. The inmates around him seem less scary. Everything seems more familiar and more easy.

Weeks go by. Weeks of him getting money from Louis, trading that money for drugs from Malik and handing those drugs back over to Louis. The cycle continues as though it's all he's ever known. And like that – things go back to normal. His new normal, anyway. Eating meals with the lads (the other inmates are apparently 'the lads' now), fucking Harry in the church (but never, ever sleeping in the same bed again), and letting his brain drift off to thoughts about his brother (who can rot in hell, as far as he's concerned.)

His mum comes to visit him again. That in itself is a shock, but what's more of one is the news on Greg.

“It looks like your brother just can't seem to catch a break,” she sighs, looking somewhere between worried and annoyed. “They found cocaine in his drug test. His sentence was extended by a year.”

Niall feels his eyes grow wide. His stomach twists with guilt and anticipation. He taps his foot on the grounds, suddenly growing restless. Surely this is the work of Louis – but Greg didn't have to snort the fucking stuff!

She fumbles with her hands, her mouth turned down in a frown. “How are you doing?” she asks him, but it just sounds forced. The only reason she's here is so she can make him feel guilty about Greg. Even though there's no way she could know that was his doing.

Because it was his doing, wasn't it? Whatever – if Greg was in here then Niall would be the one snorting coke. Because Greg would find a way to get a hold of it (or some other drug) and get him involved. It what he always does.

This way he'll be out of here in what... eight months now? He's actually lost count a little. The days start to blur together.

“Niall?” her eyes pierce him.

“I've got a boyfriend,” he says, more for the shock value than anything. That, and maybe he's hoping that for once in his life his mum will be happy for him.

“In _here_?” she asks, giving Niall the exact reaction he wanted. Other than that happy part.

“Yup,” he leans back. The hard plastic of the chair digs into his back, but he doesn't care or even notice. “He's quite lovely.”

“I'm sure he is,” she says stiffly. “Well, I guess you don't have a lot of other options.”

“Oh, I fucked guys before I was in prison.” It's almost comical, how much fun he's having with this. If his mum's going to show up here and make him feel terrible, he's going to throw it right back into her Roman-Catholic face.

She takes a long breath and looks at him. “Look if you're not interested in having a polite conversation-”

“You asked me how I was doing. I told you.” He smirks a little bit. It feels good to get under her skin for once.

She glares at him. “I'll be going then,” she says before she gets up to leave.

Niall just waves at her, forcing a smile across his face. “Bye mum! Love you!” Like his insides aren't crushing because she obviously couldn't care less about his life or what's going on with him. Like he's not reeling with guilt over his brother getting another year in maximum security. Like he doesn't feel sick to his stomach because he was never good enough for that fucking family.

Whatever. He's got his own family now.

* * *

And what a family it is, especially with Payne's brotherly advice. “You're too close to Louis,” he says one day when they're sitting outside. Payne's actually smoking – having saved up enough money to buy the outrageously priced cigarettes in the canteen. He holds out the pack to Niall, but Niall shakes his head. Tobacco's never quite appealed to him.

“ _You're_ too close to Louis,” Niall repeats, knowing he's being a little shit.

Payne just narrows his eyes at Niall and shakes his head. “I told you not to get in the middle of their shit. And now look, you're in the middle of their shit.”

“Don't worry about it.” That's a heavy statement, because Niall himself is worried about it. But he's always worried about everything all the time, so that really doesn't hold any weight.

“I am worried about it.” He lets out a puff of smoke and watches it swirl into the air before it disappears completely. “Because if I see it, then Malik sees it.”

“So Malik sees it, so what?” Niall leans backwards into the wooden picnic table, resting his arms behind him. “I already told him, keep your friends close, keep your enemies closer. He doesn't give a shit.”

“Yeah for now,” Payne sighs. “Until he does. Jesus Christ, Horan. What's happened to you all of a sudden?”

Niall raises his eyebrow? What's happened to him? Nothing's happened to him – except for giving everything he has to survive in prison. “Nothing.”

“Right well, you've certainly got some weirdness about you in the last little while.”

“Solitary fucks you up.”

Payne takes another drag from his cigarette. “Right.”

Niall sighs. Deep down, he knows that Payne's probably right. No good is going to come from him running around being Louis's whipping boy. As much as he likes to believe he manipulated him, he knows he's playing right into Louis's game. But he's got to try, and he can't back out now. At least he's got Harry.

Harry who doesn't really know much about this, but still. And he's got Payne, who seems to be as sane a person as any.

“What'd you do, anyway?” Niall can't help but ask. He knows he's not supposed to, but he figures they're sitting here having a heavy conversation already. He might as well give it a shot.

Payne gives him a look.

“Sorry,” Niall says. 

“No, it's alright.” He takes the final drag from his cigarette and blows the smoke out of his mouth. He drops the filter, smashing it underneath his foot. “Back home, there was this girl. Fuck, she was the most beautiful girl, Horan.” He lifts up his hands and cuts them through the air in an S shape. “She had all these curves... well, I guess you wouldn't really understand.”

“I can appreciate pretty girls you twat,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Go on.”

“Yeah. Anyway, I asked her out a couple times and we went out. Nothing serious, you know, movies and stuff. I thought she was interested in me so I called her again.”

Niall nods his head. He's mildly worried this story's going to end with Payne killing this girl. 

“She didn't want to go out again but like... she seemed really interested. So I called her a few more times and I thought, you know, go out with this romantic gesture. So I show up at her house like in Say Anything. Boom Box and all.”

Niall raises his eyebrow. So far this story's not that good, and a little pathetic.

Payne sighs. “Yeah, so turns out she actually had a boyfriend by this time I guess. So he comes out of the house, screaming and going fucking crazy. We got into a bit of a scrap, you know? Broke his nose and all.”

“Uh huh.” So far it all seems pretty innocent.

“You're thinking that it's not that big a deal, right? I know, it's such bullshit. But his dad turned out to be some high ranking lawyer. They ended up pressing charges and here I am.”

That was much more of a boring story than Niall expected, but it's oddly fitting. Payne doesn't really belong here. Despite his name, he doesn't seem like he'd ever intentionally hurt anyone. Naturally, his mind drifts back to Harry. He's never thought to ask what he did – it didn't seemed like it mattered all that much. Whatever it was he felt guilty about it. It frustrates Niall a bit – how can someone like Harry end up in a place like this? Payne had a fight with that guy, but Niall can't picture Harry ever laying his hands on anyone.

“It's not that long of a sentence,” Payne says with a bit of a smile. That in itself makes Niall uneasy. Because who can ever smile when they think about their prison sentence? He's pretty sure he's never going to get out of here. “Only six months. I'll be out of here in two weeks.”

Oh, that's why.

“Jesus,” Niall says. “Well, what're you gonna do when you get out?”

Payne shrugs his shoulders. “Probably go home I guess.”

It was an obvious answer to a bit of a stupid question, but Niall can't help but feel jealous. And then he feels sick. Where's home for him? The apartment he shared with Greg is surely gone by now and there's no way his mum will take him back in after their last visit.

He supposes his dad might, but that would mean going all the way home to Ireland. Far away from Harry.

“Chin up, mate.” Payne smiles. “You'll still have Harry.” 

Niall nods. Yeah, that's true. And Harry's really all he needs. The only problem is, he has no idea what Harry did or when he's getting out.

* * *

“Wait.”

They're on their way out of the church again. Only this time, Niall can't let it go. He can't stop thinking about it. The whole time they were banging he couldn't concentrate on it – he could only think about what Harry must have been like before prison. And what he could have done to get here. And when he's getting out. And is he going to leave him here all alone when he does?

Harry looks back at him. His long hair is wet with sweat and pulled back into a bun on the top of his head. “Yeah?”

“Can we talk?”

It's a simple request, but Niall still feels childish asking. Still, Harry leads him into a pew. He sits down and pats the spot next to him. Which Niall takes, sitting and putting his hands in his lap.

“What do you want to talk about?” Harry asks, looking down at him.

Niall shifts uncomfortably. Now that he has the opportunity, he's shy. His mind drifts back to all those times that he heard Harry crying at night in his bunk. How he'd been so cold to him when he first got here. 

“I...” he starts. All this feigned confidence he's built up is gone now. Now that it's just him and Harry and the silence. “What happened, Harry?”

Harry frowns at him – his soft eyes falling and briefly returning to that icy glazed over look that Niall never wants to remember. “What do you mean?”

Niall doesn't falter. He has to know. Harry keeps him grounded – oddly enough he helps him to remember that before all this shit, he used to be a good person. He's not the type of person that would have run with Greg's crowd. “How does someone like you end up in a place like this?”

Harry looks down at the ground, and instantly Niall feels guilty. He's silent for a long time. Every second that goes by is torture. Niall can hear the sound of his and Harry's breathing both bouncing of the walls of the church. His mind races. He contemplates just apologizing, and telling him to forget he even asked. Because you're not supposed to ask. And no amount of love or sex should change that.

But then Harry opens his mouth. His raw, low, slow voice breaking the silence between them. “My sister died.”

Niall's heart drops into his stomach. That was the last thing he expected to hear. He doesn't say anything. Instead he just slides over closer to Harry, intent to hear the rest of the story. 

Harry's eyes glass over. He looks up at the ceiling and draws in a sharp breath, like he's trying to compose himself. “She was my best friend. We did everything together. And then one day she was just gone.”

Niall doesn't press. He just places his hand on Harry's thigh and listens. 

“Car accident, you know? You think it can't happen to you, and then it does.” He stops to rub his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “I think I must have jolted up in the middle of the night the second it happened, like I knew.”

Niall nods, but he doesn't really understand. All he knows is the pain that this is causing Harry. It's clear to see.

“I couldn't handle it, Niall,” Harry says, making eye contact with him for the first time since this came up. He blinks a couple times, tears getting stuck in his long eyelashes. It breaks Niall's heart, and a lump starts to rise in his throat. He didn't even know this girl, but here he is, sitting here mourning her death. “I couldn't handle it. It consumed every thought I had. It all had to do with her.”

So that's why Harry's been crying every night. It all starts to click into place.

“I had...” Harry keeps pulling in these deep breaths, like he's afraid of what he's about to say.

“You can tell me,” Niall soothes, rubbing his back. He's lost the need to know. It's overpowered with his need to help Harry get all of this off his chest.

“Don't hate me.” It's surprising. How could Niall hate him? How could Harry ever think something like that? Niall's positive that there's nothing that Harry could say that could make him stop loving him. 

“I could never,” Niall says. He shakes his head, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on Harry's.

Harry doesn't look so sure. He doesn't nod his head in response. Instead he keeps looking at Niall, a couple tears falling down his face. He puts his face in his hands and cries into them. His back is shaking as Niall's rubs it, trying as best he can to help him out. But truly, there's not much he can do but be there for him and listen.

He feels guilty again for dredging it all up.

“I had to get away so I started smoking, but it wasn't helping, you know? It didn't do what I thought it would. So I had to turn to the harder stuff.” His face crumbles, and his head falls into hands again. He's sobbing hard into them, his fingers digging into his face.

“Hey, it's alright,” Niall says, trying to wrap his arms around him even though they're sitting in an awkward position to do so. 

“I'm sorry, Niall,” Harry sobs. “I'm sorry I didn't tell you before. I never sold anything, but I used to hang around with with Louis and Zayn... Malik, I mean, all the time.”

Niall's stomach twists up. He feels stupid for not seeing it before. The way Harry's not interested in talking to Louis ever. The way that Louis never has anything good to say about him. Hell, Louis's attitude about him the first day he was in prison.

Guilt consumes him. Everything he's been involved with is the embodiment of what Harry hates about himself. Fuck, he's so stupid. So awful. So selfish and destructive to this person who he's supposed to love and support. They very foundation of their relationship is that they understand each other 

“I got so deep into it,” Harry continues, words cracking through his sobs. “I didn't know who I was and I fucked up so bad. Everything that I went through with Gemma. And I...” He can't keep going. He trails off, crying and shaking and completely wrecked from the memories that he's shared.

The lump that's been sitting in Niall's throat this entire time spills over, and tears stream down his face. “I'm so sorry,” Niall says. “I had no idea.”

Harry just nods his head, containing his sobs with his hands.

“I've been so stupid.” Niall's voice cracks. “I got so wrapped up in this shit. I didn't even know Harry. I just wanted Louis to help me...”

Harry looks up at him. His face is red and splotchy. His eyes a bloodshot and his nose looks raw. “What?” he chokes out.

He can't believe he's going to say this. If Harry thought Niall was going to hate him for what he'd done, it's nothing compared to this. “I've been in between the two of them, getting drugs from Malik and giving them to Louis so he can smoke them or find out how Malik's getting them or whatever he does with them. I don't know. I don't know. I don't know,” the longer he keeps repeating those words, the longer he can put off saying his bullshit reasoning.

Harry stares at him. Niall much have shocked the sobs out of him because he's not crying anymore.

“Louis knows people. I told him if he could keep my brother in max, that I'd help him. Well, my brother's been caught with cocaine-”

“Uncreative twat,” Harry interrupts him. “That's definitely Louis's doing.”

Niall nods. “And now I'm stuck doing all his shit.”

Harry's silent again for a minute. He just looks at Niall, studying him as though he's carefully trying to figure out what he should say. Niall's heart beats in anticipation. Harry's probably going to tell him off. How could he not know how dangerous Malik and Louis were? Even Payne warned him to stay away, and he didn't listen! Now he's going to lose everything. 

His worries are unfounded, as they usually are. “You've got to stop,” he says. 

“I can't.” Now it's Niall's turn to start sobbing into his hands. “They'll kill me.” 

“They won't.” Harry gently takes Niall's hands away from his face and holds them tightly. “Tell Louis you're done. It's over. You've held up your end of the bargain. It's over. You hear me? It's over.”

“I can't,” Niall says again.

“I'll tell him.” Harry's serious now, a complete one-eighty from just five minutes ago. His eyes are wide and his words and short and to the point. “You're too good for this shit, Niall.” He pulls one hand away from their intertwined fingers and runs it through Niall's hair.

He knows he's not. Harry's wrong “Thank you,” Niall mutters all the same. He probably shouldn't let Harry do his dirty work for him. He probably should man up and do it himself. He got himself into this mess, he should get himself out of it. He shouldn't make Harry go back to Louis and face his past head-on.

But he's weak. It's the whole reason he's here in the first place. So he nods his head and lets Harry kiss him on the mouth.

“It'll be alright,” Harry says, pulling away from him. “Don't worry.”

It's too bad that's impossible.

* * *

That night Niall doesn't sleep. He tosses and turns and every time he starts to drift off his mind flashes with scenes of Louis and Harry.

Louis laughing in Harry's face and telling him to fuck off.

Harry getting right up in Louis's snarky face and telling him that he's done and to cut the shit.

The two of them getting thrown back into solitary. Or worse, getting thrown into max.

The next morning at breakfast is worse. Harry's beside Niall, just as he always is. He quietly sips on his coffee and picks at his eggs. Louis goes on about something or other, Niall's not listening to his words. He watches his face carefully and glances in between him and Harry, looking for any inkling that they used to know each other.

It's not there. Either that, or Niall's too tired to notice it.

He goes through the motions in the shower. He's so tired, but every nerve in his body is on overdrive. It's like he's over-caffeinated even though he's not. He hardly had three sips of his coffee at breakfast.

He's restless in his bunk. Harry's not there. He's gone to talk to Louis. Just as he promised he would. Niall regrets it now. He feels sick and he stares up at the hollow ceiling. Pipes line it, and he tries to follow their paths to distract himself.

It doesn't help.

He should have stopped Harry, but he didn't even know he was going to go until he was gone. Now he's laying here all alone replaying every horrible scenario over and over again in his mind. This is going to end terribly. Mutually assured destruction. He's sure of it.

“Horan.”

He sits up. Louis and Harry and standing at the entrance of his bunk.

“Do you have any idea what I had to do to keep your brother locked in max? To get his sentence extended?”

Niall just looks down at the ground. What a fucking mess. And everything about this is far too calm for the tightness and buzzing that's happening inside his chest. Which only serves to make it that much worse.

“One more,” Louis says. “You'll go to him once more. And then you're done.” He nods his head at Niall, gives Harry a look and then leaves.

Niall doesn't say anything. How can he? He's such a fucking child, sitting here being told what to do while Harry goes out and fights his battles for him.

“I didn't want you to do any more, but there's nothing I can do,” Harry sighs, sitting down on his own bed. “I didn't want to get mixed up in making deals with him either.”

“It's fine,” Niall says, still staring at the ground. He doesn't care. He's been bouncing in between Malik and Louis for this long, what's one more time?

“Be careful,” Harry stresses. “Just do your thing, and get out.” 

He looks up and nods his head. He can hardly look Harry in the eyes, he feels so awful. But Harry looks fine. Well, maybe not fine. But he certainly doesn't look as stressed as Niall feels. Maybe after all the shit he went through with Louis, talking to him isn't so bad. Maybe Niall was worrying all night for nothing.

“Thank you,” he whispers, having to swallow his tears.

“We'll get through this,” Harry assures him. Niall shakes his head slightly. He can't imagine having a better person on his side.

* * *

It's a cool afternoon. The sky is so dark it's almost black and the rain threatens to fall. Niall's wearing a jumper over top of his t-shirt. His hands are stuffed in his pockets as he shuffles his feet. He waits for Malik. _This is the last time_ , he reminds himself. _The last time. Just get it over with._

But his leg still shakes and his foot taps on the ground as he waits.

“Sure can't get enough, can you?” Niall turns around at sound of Malik's voice. The area behind the track and the shed is too secluded, too out of reach from everyone else. He wishes Harry was here with him, even though he doesn't. Harry getting mixed up in this shit again won't help. Niall just wants them both to be done with it so they can move on.

Whatever that means, since they're stuck in prison still.

“Nope.” Niall pulls the money out of his pocket and hands it to Malik.

Normally Malik takes the money, hands Niall a baggie of meth and they're done. Normally it's an easy exchange that has Niall's heart pounding all the way through, but it's over fairly quickly if he thinks about it logically.

This time Malik pulls at Niall's hand, gripping it hard and pulling him towards him before Niall even knows what's happening. He doesn't hand Niall any meth. The only thing he delivers is a hard blow to the side of Niall's face.

Niall instinctively reaches up to rub his cheek, stumbling backwards a little bit from the force. Before he has a chance to regain his composure, Malik comes charging at him again.

“Aye, that'll teach you to fuck with me, yeah?” Malik shouts, throwing Niall to the ground. “If you don't think I know you've been working with Louis you're stupider than you look.”

Niall hits the pavement hard, the gravel cutting at his cheeks. The wind gets knocked out of his lungs with a bit of an “Oomph.” but he doesn't say anything. He doesn't dare.

Malik rolls him over onto his back and pushes himself down on top of Niall. He makes eye contact with him once more before driving his fist into the side of Niall's face again.

The pain is unbearable, and even though Niall closes his eyes he swears he loses his vision for a second there. Zayn keeps hitting him in the face, over and over again until the metallic taste of blood swirls inside of Niall's mouth.

“Ugh,” Niall can't help but moan out. How could he have let this happen? All he wanted was for this to be over. He was so close to getting out of it. And now this how he's going to die, he's sure of it.

His mind drifts back to Harry. Harry tried to help him, for god sakes. Harry warned him that he had to be done with this. Because Harry knew (probably better than anyone) how dangerous they were. He probably knew this was going to happen. God, Niall can't even think about it. How guilty is Harry going to feel if he doesn't make it out of this alive?

“Yeah,” Malik pulls him up by his shoulders and pulling him out of his thoughts. “Like that, Horan?”

Niall's eyes burn so bad that he can barely open them. He manages to peel one open and squint at Zayn, trying to focus on his face. It's mostly just a blur – in fact the only thing that he can focus on is his pounding head. His mind flashes back to Harry again. Just yesterday Harry was sitting there with him in the church pews telling him all about his past. They were so close to getting everything all figured out.

“N...no,” he manages to slur out, his head drooping down. It's too heavy to hold up at this point. “Zayn...”

Malik grips his shoulders tightly, digging his fingers through Niall's t-shirt into his skin. “What did you call me?” he screams, and if Niall was more than half conscious he would have noticed the obvious crack in his voice.

Niall just mumbles something in audible, his lips rubbing together and muffling the noises that are trying to come out of them. “Zayn,” he finally says. “Don't.”

Malik hold his grip on Niall's shoulders, starting to shake him violently. “Don't tell me what to do you fuck,” he shouts, shaking him hard and causing his head to flop back and forth. “Not when your fucking boyfriend is the reason for my misery.”

“Ugh...” Niall groans, dipping out of consciousness for a moment. He doesn't even have time to register Malik's comment about Harry. He coughs and sputters on the blood that's running down his throat.

“And don't you dare fucking die!” He screams, still shaking him. “Don't die on me!” The shaking starts to finally come to an end, but instead of Niall falling backwards onto the pavement, he falls into Malik's arms like a rag doll.

He has no energy. He mouth hangs half open, blood and saliva dripping off his lips. Everything hurts so much. His head is spinning. He's so dizzy and there's a buzzing in his ears.

“Don't die on me,” Malik cries, clutching onto Niall and holding him. 

Niall just groans again, getting out any noise he can muster up. It's not much. 

“Don't die on me, Pez...” Malik trails off, still clutching Niall. He holds onto him tighter, and Niall can't catch a breath. He doesn't know what's going on – can't comprehend it. One minute Malik's beating the shit out of him, the next he's clinging to him for dear life. He might be hallucinating. He doesn't know. Can't figure it out.

Rain starts to fall, slowly at first but quickly picking up force. Niall's hair starts to mat on his head, but he doesn't even notice. 

Malik's still holding onto him and Niall can't do anything else. He can't move, and he certainly can't think. The last thing he hears before he slips out of consciousness is Malik's sobbing in his ear.

* * *

When Niall wakes up, the scene is different. The walls are white and the lights are bright. His head's still pounding, though.

“Mmm...” he mutters, glancing around. His hand is warm and unsurprisingly, attached to it is Harry. Who's sitting there watching him with big, watery green eyes. Seems like the no touching rule can be waived when there's a near-death experience involved.

“You're awake,” he states. As if Niall wasn't aware. And in fact, maybe he wasn't. Because for a moment there it certainly seemed he was done for. But it's nice to see he's not.

“Erm, yeah,” he says, blinking his eyes a bit and looking around.

“Infirmary,” Harry explains. 

Niall nods. He probably could have figured that out. But it's nice to be told and not have to use his brain for a moment.

“What happened?” His memory's still hazy and he could probably piece it together if he tried. But again, it's nice to be told.

“Malik kicked the shit out of you,” Harry says, and Niall almost laughs. It's unlike him to be so blunt about it. 

“Right.” Fuck, his head's still pounding. He's surprised he can even see straight. The bright lights bouncing off the white walls are nearly blinding him.

“He really kicked the shit out of you,” Harry continues, his voice cracking. He uses his free hand to reach up and wipe his eyes. “Fuck, it's a good thing they found you when they did. The two of you were a bloody mess.”

Niall just leans back, using everything he has to concentrate on Harry's words and not the throbbing in his head. If Malik's fist didn't break it open, there's a good chance this splitting pain might.

“It was obvious it wasn't a fair fight,” Harry sighs, a slight laugh to his voice. “They found you unconscious and him covered in your blood, clutching you and crying. Or at least, that's the word around here. They dragged Malik off to max pretty quick. Don't think he'll be back any time soon.” 

Niall just listens as Harry talks. Things are starting to come back to him now. The darkness outside and the rain hitting him right before he went out.

“I'm so sorry, Niall,” Harry says, squeezing his hand harder. “You never should have gone back to him. I should have been more assertive with Louis.”

Niall shakes his head. There's no way he's going to let Harry blame himself for this. “Not your fault.” He keeps his eyes closed, trying to think back. The last thing he remembers is the blood in his mouth. It was so strong and so awful. He can almost still taste it. And he sort of remembers Malik clutching him. How he'd been shaking him and screaming and then he just stopped. Crying and begging him not to die.

“Pez...” Niall mutters, the unfamiliar memory clicking back into place. “He was calling me Pez.”

Harry takes in a sharp breath, and Niall can't help but notice it. “Pez?”

“Yeah,” Niall says, shifting upwards and trying to jog his memory. “He kept holding me and begging me not to die and calling me Pez. Fucking weird shite.”

Harry doesn't take his eyes off of Niall.

“What the fuck does that even mean?” Niall continues, rubbing his head with his free hand. 

Harry sighs and looks down. His expression is oddly reminiscent of their conversation two nights before. “Pez... is Perrie. She was Zayn's girlfriend.”

Niall raises his eyebrow as things start to come back to him. “He said something else weird. He said you were the reason for his misery.”

Harry's breath catches in his throat like a sob. Niall furrows his eyebrows. 

“Harry?” Niall asks, growing concerned. “What's wrong? What happened? Why would he say that?” He literally has no idea what's going on – all of this is too much. For the millionth time he wishes he never got sent to prison in the first place. Life may actually have been simpler on the outside.

Harry takes a deep breath. “Perrie died. Well, actually...” he shifts uncomfortably in his chair, and heat and anticipation rises in Niall's chest. His headache is momentarily forgotten about as he concentrates on what Harry's trying to say. But Harry stops himself short.

Niall keeps watching him. The sadness has returned to his boyfriend's face. Tears have collected in his eyes again. His mouth is turned downwards and everything looks wrong.

“She died,” Niall repeats. 

Harry nods, breaking out into full on sobs.

“I'm sorry,” Niall says. The words are so familiar to him now. He feels like he's apologizing for something new every day.

“Don't apologize!” Harry looks up at him sharply. “It's not your fault, don't you be apologizing for what's done.”

There's a thick tension in the air after that. Harry's sudden reaction shocks Niall. “Okay...” he trails off, careful not to apologize for, well apologizing. “It's not your fault either, Harry,” he tries, soothing him in the only way he knows how. By reassuring him that he's a good person who's done nothing wrong. 

“It is my fault,” Harry insists, the tears still stuck in his eyes. “God Niall, the reason I'm here is because I killed her.”

The words hit Niall harder than Malik's fists ever could. Harry _killed_ someone? No wonder Malik had it out for him so bad – it had nothing to do with Louis at all. Niall's head is spinning – tears sting in his eyes and he doesn't really know why. He didn't know Perrie.

But he knows Harry. And he knows that he'd never kill someone.

Except that he evidently doesn't know Harry at all. He feels sick to his stomach. The touch of Harry's hand burns at his skin, and he jerks away from him.

“Get out,” he says, narrowing his eyes. How can he sit here with this person he doesn't even know? To think he shared his fucking deepest darkest secrets with him, not to mention his bed.

“Niall...” Harry protests, his voice raw and strained. 

“Get out!” Niall shouts, shoving him away as hard as he can with one arm. “Stay the fuck away from me! You killed someone? Jesus fuck Harry, get the fuck _out_.”

Harry's eyes are probably full of more tears than they were when Niall first woke up. They're probably running down his face as he stands up, but Niall couldn't care less. The only thing he cares about is watching Harry stand up and walk away from him.

Because he sure as hell wants nothing to do with him ever again.

* * * 

Niall's next few days are spent alone in the infirmary. He drifts in and out of sleep, finally feeling comfortable for the first time since he got here. Aside from the pain in his head and the pain in his heart, that is.

As soon as he gets out of here he's going to request that he be moved to another bunk. How the hell could Harry keep that type of information from him? Niall even asked him straight up and he kept that a secret – making it seem like it was simple drug possession.

He should have known better. People don't get thrown into prison for this long for fucking drug possession. All the crying and bitterness didn't have to do with his fucking sister at all – it had to do with Malik and his fucking girlfriend who Harry killed.

It makes Niall feel sick to his stomach to think about. A fucking murder charge? How the hell is Harry not in max where he belongs? All Niall did was steal a fucking car and he gets put in a bunk with someone who's at risk to kill him in his sleep?

He's not thinking rationally, but he's too hurt and angry to realise it. His mind sticks on Harry more than it ever has. Even more than when he was trapped in solitary.

Only this time he's racking his brain for clues that he could have missed. Clues that would have led him to the truth and far away from this fabricated person. Harry's not nearly as wonderful as he thought he was. Niall mentally kicks himself. Obviously he was too good to be true. Because you can't be in prison and not be fucked up. You can't be here and be a good person.

Everything Harry told him was wrong. He can't help but wallow in his own self pity. How stupid was he to let himself fall in love? As much as he tells himself that's not a problem anymore, of course it is. But he just has to keep reminding himself that the person he's in love with, the person he thought Harry was doesn't fucking exist.

How could he? How could he fucking kill someone? Sure, he looked sad about it. But that doesn't matter. He still did it. He still had that moment where he thought that taking another human life was a well and fine idea.

Three days of this go by. Three days until he's bandaged up and deemed well enough to go back into his bunk. Three days until he's released back into the common prison area.

His cheek is still scabbed over from the pavement. His head is still bruised and there are still dark circles around his eyes, but Niall doesn't give a shit.

He marches himself straight into his counsellor's office. For the first time since he got here, he actually needs some guidance. Even if that guidance is just him being led to another bunk.

“Absolutely not,” he's told point blank.

“He's a hardened criminal,” Niall protests.

And he's stared down for what feels like a full minute. “Everyone gets a clean slate when they're brought in here.”

Niall scoffs. That's a load of shit.

“Listen to me, Horan,” his counsellor says. “You don't solve problems by running away from them. Go back to your bunk. This conversation is over.”

Niall mutters a quick “Thank you,” before dejectedly walking about of the office and back down the halls. Sure enough when he gets back to his bunk Harry's there, laying face down into his pillow and crying.

As Niall's about to sit down on his own bed he notices something – a Wispa bar sitting on his pillow. Perhaps it's a little harsh, but Niall's steaming already because of his failed attempt to be moved. And Harry's pathetic gesture isn't helping. He picks it up and throws it at Harry. It hits him in the back and bounces onto the floor.

Harry looks up at him.

“Don't,” Niall says before Harry has a chance to say anything. “Don't try to fucking make up. You kept a huge fucking scary fucking secret from me. Fuck. The best thing you can do is leave me the fuck alone.”

Harry doesn't snap back at him like he used to. He doesn't protest. He doesn't try to apologize. He just nods his head and rolls over to face away from Niall.

* * *

“Jesus, he really did a number on you, didn't he?” Payne says the next morning at breakfast. He cringes while taking in all the marks on Niall's face.

“Thanks, mate, nice to see you too.” Niall rolls his eyes. This is literally the last thing he needs to hear.

Louis is sitting across from the two of them, looking sort of uncomfortable. Harry's not with them, which isn't surprising. Niall did tell him to stay away, after all. 

“Well, at least Malik's gone now, so there's that.”

Niall gives Louis a look. He doesn't even know why he's sitting here with him, to be honest. Probably because even though he got mixed up in his shit he's the only friend he's got in this place. Besides, even if he's a scheming, untrustworthy dick, it's not like he's a fucking murderer.

Niall really can't get past that.

“Right.” Payne nods, trying to offer Niall a smile. “That's good right?”

Niall shrugs. Yeah, he supposes it's good. He could care less what happens to Malik, but it's nice to know he won't have to worry about him coming after him again.

“And things are over between you and loverboy?” Louis asks.

“Don't,” Niall snaps at him. “Don't.”

Louis just licks his lips and goes back to drinking his coffee. At least he doesn't smirk or laugh or offer up a stupid comment.

Niall looks at Payne, who just gives him a sympathetic smile. Niall just sighs in return.

Twenty-three million, seven hundred sixty thousand, five hundred fifty two seconds left.

* * *

Niall can't bear to be in the same bunk as Harry, so instead he grabs a book from the library and sprawls out on a dirty old couch in the recreation area.

He gets about five chapters into To Kill a Mockingbird (which is every bit as boring as he expected it to be) before he's interrupted by Louis dragging a plastic chair towards him. It screeches as the metal legs scratch against the concrete floor, and Niall can't help but glare at him.

“We should talk,” Louis says.

“Fuck you,” Niall replies, returning to his book and pretending to read it. He's not interested in being friends with Louis. He's not interested in being friends with anyone anymore. Payne's leaving in approximately one week and after that he plans on keeping to himself. 

Louis just laughs as he sits down in the chair. He turns it around so the back of it faces Niall and sits on it with his arms resting on the top. “I talked to Harry.”

Niall ignores him. Atticus Finch is far more interesting than anything Louis has to say.

“He says you're not talking to him. Which I could have figured out myself given that you're here by yourself reading... Jesus Christ, To Kill a Mockingbird?! You really must be pissed off to subject yourself to that shit.”

Still ignoring him.

“Here, let me tell you how it ends. Everyone's a fucking racist. Now that that's out of the way, let me tell you a far more interesting story.”

“You must love the sound of your own voice,” Niall mutters, still not looking away from his book.

“I do, actually.” Louis reaches over and snatches the book away from Niall. Niall glares at him but doesn't fight for it back. He just sits there in a huff, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Now then, Harry told me that he told you what happened with Pez.”

Niall rolls his eyes. This is literally the last thing he wants to hear about. Especially coming from Louis who's most definitely going to make the whole thing out to be a joke.

“That's well and fine Niall, act like you don't give a shit. He told you what happened from his perspective. Christ, have you met him? Of course he's going to think he was the one that killed her.”

Niall presses his lips together and turns them down. He still doesn't give Louis the satisfaction of a response. Which doesn't matter because Louis keeps going.

“She was Malik's girlfriend long before I met him or Harry did. The two of them were friends by convenience, yeah? Because whenever Malik and I were out doing a cook – do you know how long one of those takes by the way? A hell of a lot longer than a montage on Breaking Bad would lead you to believe.”

Niall just listens now, still staring straight ahead. And it's obvious Louis knows he's got him hooked, so he keeps talking.

“Anyway, whenever Malik and I were out doing a cook they'd hang out together. Get high and whatnot – because that's all Harry ever wanted to do. At least when I knew him. Get high and lay there completely stoic.”

It's not surprising, given what Niall's seen of him over the past few months. All he ever wants to do now is lay there and cry.

“So we go out to do a cook one night – standard. He and Pez go to her and Malik's apartment. She's not feeling well that night. Told me and Malik that before we left, that she was just going to go to bed. Had a headache or some shit. Girl shit, I suppose.”

Niall nods his head. 

“But Harry wants to get high anyway. So he shows up and convinces her to do it. Not like it's hard, you know? They do their standard – smoke a couple of joints and snort some meth leftover from the last cook.”

Niall shakes his head. It's hard for him to imagine a life like that being Harry's standard – but he supposes that anything is possible about his life anymore.

“Only she fucks up, see. Does too much, or maybe it's the headache medicine she took. Who knows? But the next thing I know I've got seventeen texts on my phone and Harry's calling me in a panic. She's in fucking convulsions.”

Niall sits up a little, adjusts himself so he's not totally slouched on the couch. For the first time, he actually looks over at Louis. And Louis just nods his head, like he knows he's getting through to Niall and about to make his point.

“He's a fucking idiot so he calls 911. Like they aren't going to show up and find drugs all over the apartment. He's even more of a fucking idiot because he doesn't hide that shit beforehand.”

“Pretty sure that doesn't make him a fucking idiot,” Niall says, giving Louis a look.

Louis rolls his eyes. “You're not in the drug world. You don't get it – look after your friends when they OD but fuck, look after your friends when they're out on a cook and don't tip the cops off to their location. Anyway, Pez gets taken to the hospital, but she's pronounced dead before she even gets there. Meanwhile they're asking Harry where Zayn is and like the complete arse he is, he tells them. And here we are.” Louis taps his chest with his hands and pulls at his prison-issued shirt a little. “You know the rest.”

“So she overdosed,” Niall mumbles. Harry didn't actually kill her at all. He's just doing that thing that he always does – blaming himself when it's not actually his fault. Or at least, not all his fault. Niall mentally kicks himself. This is one thing he out of anyone else should be familiar with.

And he just kicked Harry out of his life, probably validating every horrible thing that Harry feels about himself.

“Yeah. So Harry didn't kill her. He only thinks he did because he's already fucked up about his sister's death. Which he also didn't cause. But he's convinced Pez would still be alive if he hadn't shown up that night. Cause she would have just gone to bed.”

“Right.” Niall's hardly listening anymore. He looks down at his hands. That familiar feeling of guilt is back in his chest, swirling around into his stomach. Harry's probably in his bed feeling like total shit. He finally spilled his deepest darkest secret to Niall, and this is how he gets repaid.

“Look,” Louis sighs, sliding his chair in closer to Niall. “Don't breathe a fucking word of this to anyone, alright? But Pez probably would have OD'd anyway eventually, she was deep into that shit. And me and Malik? Probably would have got caught anyway. We weren't exactly smart about our operation.”

“Right,” Niall says again. That's probably all true. There's only so much damage that one person can cause. 

“Go talk to Harry.” Louis reaches over and actually places his hand on Niall's shoulder, squeezing it a little before pulling away. “You're the only person who actually makes him look like... well, a person. Not a shell pumped full of drugs.”

Niall shrugs. “Why are you trying to help, anyway? I thought you hated him.”

Louis laughs and shakes his head. “I don't hate him. He hates me and everything I represent about his life. Now go on, will you? This is about as much sap as I can take.”

Niall nods, getting up from his spot on the couch. Before he goes, he turns to Louis. “Thanks.”

“Don't mention it,” Louis replies, lazily flipping through the pages of To Kill a Mockingbird. “Literally. Don't ever mention it.”

Niall shakes his head. So underneath Louis's tough exterior there's actually a heart after all. Who knew? “I wont.”

* * *

“Thought you wanted me to leave you the fuck alone.”

Harry's standing facing Niall in their usual meeting place. Behind the church stage, after Niall dropped a note onto Harry's bed telling him to meet him there.

“I'm an idiot,” Niall says point blank.

“You're not-” Harry starts, but Niall promptly cuts him off.

“Yes I am.” Niall stands up, placing two fingers overtop of Harry's lips. “All you ever did was listen to me, and care about me and try to make me feel better about myself. And I repaid you by jumping to conclusions when you tried to tell me what happened with Pez. I should have known better. After all these months, I should have known that wasn't the whole story.”

Harry swallows, shaking his head. He blinks back tears for what seems like the thousandth time. But Niall's going to try his damnedest to make sure that after today, that never happens again.

“I'm sorry, Harry. It wasn't your fault. I should have known that.”

“You weren't there,” Harry protests. “You don't know.”

“I do know.” Niall nods his head and takes Harry's hands in his own. “You're a good person, Harry. I love you so much. You'd never do something like this on purpose.”

It's then that Harry's collapses into Niall's arms in a mess of tears. He clings to Niall, his taller frame hunched over Niall's smaller one.

Niall holds onto him tightly, rubbing his back and offering words of comfort as best he can. “It's alright, Harry. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere.”

“I think about it every day,” Harry cries, burying his head into Niall's shoulder.

“I know,” Niall says, tears welling up in his own eyes. How could he have been so stupid before? Harry's the best person he's ever known. He just made a mistake. Just like Niall did. But at least those mistakes led them to each other. 

“I know, Harry. It'll get easier. I promise.”

* * *

The lot of them gather at the window a week later. Niall, Harry, Louis and a few others who Payne was friends with, as he's getting led out and released that day.

It's hard for Niall to comprehend. He's been here for four months already, and Payne's release leads him to think about his own. He can't imagine being away from Harry – and Harry's still got another eight months to go after Niall gets out. 

But for now the two of them stand together, their fingers occasionally brushing together. They watch out the window, waiting impatiently for Payne to appear below them on the way out.

“Can't believe they're letting him back out into society,” Louis mutters, albeit with a little bit of a laugh. “Reckon he'll be back once he pulls another stint from an 80's movie.”

Niall shakes his head. Harry actually looks back at Louis and laughs, a smile creeping up on his face. Then he looks over at Niall, who laughs as well.

Even though he's going to miss him, Niall sure as hell hopes that Payne doesn't end up back here. 

Payne shows up, being led out in jeans, a hoodie and a snapback. He's carrying a bag, probably full of his belongings that were taken when he showed up here in the first place. He glances back, looking upwards at the window. He's obviously aware that the others will be waiting to bid him a final goodbye.

He waves upwards at them, a grin wide of on his face. The biggest that Niall's ever seen on him.

And Niall and the others wave back. Their final moment of support before Payne goes back out into the real world. 

“Promise me that when you get out you'll wait for me,” Harry whispers, glancing down at Niall as they wave.

Niall nods his head. “Course.”

* * *

He keeps his promise.

When he gets out, he doesn't go back to Ireland. Instead he stays in Manchester, pulling pints at a pub and living in a shitty hostel until he makes enough money to rent a one bedroom apartment. It's not much, but it's his. And that's something.

When he first got to HM Forest Bank, he was counting down the seconds until his release. Until he could forget the whole thing ever happened. He never anticipated that he'd be back there every weekend visiting an inmate he fell in love with while he did his time. But that's precisely what he does. Every Sunday he and Harry spend three hours together in the visitation ward.

“Maybe you can steal a small car,” Harry jokes once. “Like a Ford Fusion. Just so you get another six months and we don't have to be apart.”

Niall laughs, shaking his head. “Love ya, Harry. But I don't think that's going to happen.”

Those eight months are agonizing that it's almost unbelievable when the day finally comes. Niall parks his car (which he's working to pay off) in the parking lot and shoves his hands into his pockets as he waits in the pickup area. 

He watches the seconds tick by on the clock on the wall. These twenty-seven minutes seem to go by slower than the eight months that preceded them. But finally, Harry appears. He comes through the steel door, wearing a pair of skinny jeans and a flannel shirt that hangs off of him. Must have been what he came into prison with – he's lost a bit of weight since then.

Niall stands up to greet him. “Ready to go?” he asks, holding out his hand.

Harry takes it and squeezes it hard. “Yeah.”

The two of them walk outside hand-in-hand. They don't stop, they don't look back. They just look at each other and smile.


End file.
